


Of Applesauce And Three-Year-Olds

by GEGabriels



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Applesauce Is Very Important, Combeferre Knows Everything, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, M/M, Montparnasse Being an Asshole, Sickfic, Team as Family, Tiny Enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEGabriels/pseuds/GEGabriels
Summary: "There were newspaper clippings hung up as well, and papers in general were scattered across the room. There were two large bookshelves, and a cluttered desk. It was perfect, to Grantaire at least. Something on the bed caught his attention. And it wasn't the blanket that resembled the French flag. It was the fact that he was pretty sure Enjolras was not that small."Enjolras is somehow de-aged into a three-year-old child. All of the Amis struggle to cope, and try to find a cure.
Relationships: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	1. In which there's sandwiches, and Enjolras is ill

"Toothbrush?"

"Check!"

"Toothpaste?"

"Check!"

"Hairbrush?"

"Honestly Ferre, I'm not a child!"

"Then where's your hairbrush?"

"... Uhm… I'll be back in a second…" Enjolras was currently in Combeferre's room on a Friday night, watching his two best friends go over the contents of their already packed suitcases from Combeferre's bed.

Courfeyrac re-entered the room, now newly accompanied by a red hairbrush, which he held loosely in his left hand. "Is the hairbrush really necessary, Combeferre?" He whined, promptly packing it into his suitcase anyways, which was blue, in contrast to Combeferre's black one. The two suitcases lay at the foot of the bed, Combeferre hovering around them, whilst Enjolras was sprawled out on the bed behind them, propping his head up with a hand underneath his chin, while the rest of his body lay flat.

"Honestly Courf, your hair's short, you've nothing to complain about," Enjolras commented from his spot on the bed, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes,

"But it's curly," He defended, Enjolras sweeping his own long blonde curls, which were tied back with a red ribbon, into his face. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, but didn't complain any further about the hairbrush. He examined the suitcases quickly, opening his up and giving it a quick glance over, before declaring,

"There, we've packed everything we need!"

"I think we should double-check," Combeferre came in, Enjolras and Courfeyrac collectively rolling their eyes.

"Oh, alright," Combeferre said, "You don't have to double-check yours Courfeyrac, but I'm going to double-check mine. And if you forget pants you _cannot_ borrow mine."

"Okay, okay," Courfeyrac exclaimed, grabbing Combeferre's arm, "C'mon, let's all watch a movie or something, it is a Friday night, we're all off work today, by some stroke of fate, and we're not going to see Enj for another two weeks starting tomorrow!" He said. Combeferre sighed, pushing his spectacles, which had begun to slide, further up, before shrugging,

"I suppose," Combeferre gave in, Courfeyrac grinning. Enjolras stretched out even farther across the bed,

"We are not watching 'The Lion King' again," He muttered, Courfeyrac frowning,

"Oh, fine!" He replied, shaking his head at Enjolras, "If you stretch anymore, you've oughta be a cat," He teased, before skipping out of the room. Enjolras hoisted himself into a sitting position with a grunt.

"Well, come, apparently, we're watching a movie," Combeferre said, Enjolras rolling off the bed and onto his feet, the two friends exiting the room together.

"Courfeyrac, I thought I said no Lion King," Enjolras said, sitting down on the couch in the living room, which Courfeyrac was already occupying. Combeferre sat in between them.

"It's not The Lion King, it's The Lion King 1 ½!" Courfeyrac defended. Enjolras refrained from face-palming, as he glared at the offending TV screen. Combeferre just laughed.

"We'll probably be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow, Enj, we're going rather early." Combeferre informed, Enjolras nodding,

"I know, you've told me only a million times," He replied, Combeferre simply patting his shoulder affectionately, before leaning back on the couch, letting Courfeyrac's head fall across his lap, and Enjolras press against his side. Somehow, no matter what movie he was watching with someone else, he always ended up being the one who had everyone leaning against him. He didn't mind it though, as he liked the feeling of someone else's body against his own.

The movie progressed slowly, Combeferre only vaguely interested, since he'd seen all of the Lion King (And Frozen) movies over and over again, thanks to Courfeyrac. Around the time everything went wrong in the movie, Combeferre felt Enjolras go limp beside him. He paused, glancing over the younger man. His eyes were closed shut, and his breathing had slowed. He had fallen asleep. Combeferre gave him a fond look. He didn't really blame Enjolras for drifting off. It was strange, though. Enjolras didn't normally fall asleep without at least an hour of coaxing from some else.

Enjolras did wake up, though, right at the end of the movie, bleary-eyed and yawning. Courfeyrac looked slightly annoyed that he'd missed the middle of the movie, but didn't comment. Combeferre gently stroked Enjolras' hair, Enjolras giving him a slight smile.

"It is around time for some form of supper." Combeferre commented, Courfeyrac grinning,

"Yep, it's my turn to put it together!" He said, vanishing into the kitchen, which was attached to the small living room. Enjolras stood up,

"Well, I have work to get back to, tell me when the sandwiches are made, we both know that's all he can make." He told Combeferre.

"Oh, like you're much better," Combeferre smirked, and Enjolras walked into his bedroom, which was to the left of Combeferre's. He sat down on his bed, which looked largely untouched, since he barely had time to use it at all, pulling his laptop from his desk onto his lap, and scrolling through the digital design ideas Grantaire had sent him, at Feuilly's advice. They were all amazing, not that Enjolras would ever admit it, of course. He sent a quick email of thanks to Grantaire before spending a couple of minutes working on an article he had started a few days ago. It was supposed to be a call to action, but so far it was largely uninspiring. Pain shot up and down through his arms, and he flinched. That was fine though, he had probably just irritated them from typing too fast.

Enjolras gave a growl of frustration at the article. The words just weren't coming to him the way they usually did. The slight headache he seemed to have suddenly acquired wasn't much of a help either. He was just about to slam his laptop shut in defeat, when his door opened,

"Enj, sustenance, now." Combeferre demanded from the doorway. Enjolras closed his laptop, more gently then he had previously been about to do, and stood up. His legs ached as much as his arms, and were shaky. If Combeferre noticed Enjolras' slight wince, he didn't comment on it, to which Enjolras was grateful, as he set his laptop on his black-painted desk, which was covered in scattered papers and slogan-signs.

Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras all shared a large apartment. It was originally supposed to be a short term thing, only through college, but the rent was better with all three of them living together, and even though they had their moments, they generally enjoyed each other's company. Grantaire had officially declared them "platonic husbands," and the only one who had objected was Enjolras, though that was mainly for the sake of objecting.

Their "dining room" was really just the corner of their living room, which held a small table with a rug underneath it. Courfeyrac had set down three plates with sandwiches (No surprise there) on the table, and was sitting in his usual seat, swinging his legs randomly. They didn't usually all eat together, due to conflicting schedules, but they did it when they could, and they all took turns cooking. Though, Combeferre was really the only one who could cook a full meal. Courfeyrac's mother had only taught him how to make various types of sandwiches, and Enjolras was notorious for accidentally setting things on fire.

Combeferre and Enjolras joined Courfeyrac at the table, Combeferre rolling his eyes at Courfeyrac's food choice.

"Someday, I will teach you and Enjolras to properly cook." Combeferre said.

"I can cook," Enjolras said, laying his head on the table in a rather dejected manner. Combeferre rolled his eyes,

"Without setting something or _someone_ on fire." Combeferre said pointedly.

"That was once, and Joly was fine!" Enjolras argued, Combeferre shaking his head, and cautiously taking a bite of his sandwich. It was deemed acceptable, and he took another bite, Courfeyrac already halfway done.

"So," Courfeyrac said, leaning back in his chair, which Combeferre no longer bothered to scold him for. If he cracked open his head from falling, that was his fault. "I've got a new date, that one guy from the club I was talking about." Combeferre quirked an eyebrow,

"What happened to the last one?" Combeferre inquired. Courfeyrac shrugged,

"Lost interest in her," He responded. Combeferre refrained from rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Hey, Enj, eat," Combeferre prompted, placing his hand on Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras was still slumped on the table, his cheek pressed to it. Enjolras lifted his head, giving Combeferre an indiscernible look.

"So, you know we're going to be out before you wake up?" Combeferre pressed once more.

"One million and one." Enjolras grumbled. Combeferre chose to ignore that,

"We'll be back in two weeks, and you'd better take care of yourself. Bahorel, Feuilly, and Eponine are still in town, so you can go to them if anything bad happens. Oh, and Grantaire too, I suppose. Courfeyrac's family is a good days drive away, but we're always here when you need us, and you can call us at any time." Combeferre said. Enjolras nodded,

"I know, Ferre'," He responded, Courfeyrac taking his plate into the kitchen, sandwich now gone. Combeferre followed him in about a minute, also having finished his. Enjolras just stared at his own, his stomach shifting uneasily. He didn't feel like eating. And his arms and legs really did ache…

"Enjolras?" Combeferre walked over to him, a quizzical expression on his face.

"I… Don't feel well." Enjolras murmured, before realizing what he had said. His eyes widened, and he quickly tried to take it back, "N-no, I'm _fine_!" But Combeferre was already giving him a worried look.

"C'mere Enj," Combeferre ordered, sitting down on the sofa, and beckoning Enjolras over with a wave of his hand. Enjolras crossed his arms,

"I'm fine, Combeferre," He growled, Combeferre shaking his head,

"Nope. _Come. Here. Enjolras_." Combeferre repeated in a more intense tone, that could rival one of Enjolras' rather _passionate_ speech voices. Enjolras sighed, exasperated, and perhaps a little frightened, and sat next to Combeferre. Combeferre instantly placed the back of his hand on Enjolras forehead, frowning,

"A touch warm," He noted, Enjolras leaning against the couch with a scowl.

"What else is wrong, mon ami?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras giving him a defiant look. "If you wish for me to stop pestering you, you ought to answer." Combeferre warned. Enjolras sighed,

"My head hurts, a little." He admitted, Combeferre giving him a look that read " _And?"_ He sighed again, "My arms and legs ache." He added. Combeferre glanced him over, placing his palm on Enjolras' forehead, where he had once rested the back of his hand, and sweeping a few stray curls from his eyes.

"Are you dizzy, or nauseous?" Combeferre inquired, slipping into what Courfeyrac teasingly called his "doctor tone." Courfeyrac was watching the entire event half-amusedly, and half-worriedly from the small chair in the corner of the room that did not occupy a table.

"No?" Enjolras tried, Combeferre giving him a scrutinizing glare. "Yes," He muttered. Combeferre thought for a second,

"It sounds like the beginning of the stomach flu," He guessed, rubbing Enjolras' arm, "That's alright, I can stay here with you, Courf can go visit his parents." Enjolras gave him a wide-eyed looked, frantically shaking his head,

"No, Combeferre, it's okay, I'm probably fine!" He protested.

"No, you're not, besides Enj, I don't mind," Combeferre attempted to reassure him.

"Well I do! You've been looking forward to this for ages! You deserve this break, and you shouldn't miss it because I'm coming down with some small cold, or something of the sort." Enjolras argued. Combeferre still firmly held his gaze, refusing to back down,

"I'm not coming back to find you half dead, your health is more important then a small trip!" Combeferre exclaimed, Courfeyrac looking like he desperately wanted to get involved, but having some basic self-preservation instincts, no matter how faint they were.

"I'm not going to die, Combeferre. Besides, I should learn to take care of myself, you're always saying that, right?" Enjolras said.

"Don't you twist my words. That's about eating, and other basic things." Combeferre defended.

"Still seems to fall into the category." Enjolras replied. Combeferre gave a long, frustrated groan. It was a stupid idea to argue with someone such as Enjolras, who had been the best in the three different debate clubs he had attended.

"Alright, here's a deal, if I have one the amis still here check in on you everyday, make sure you've eaten, and take your temperature, without you making it difficult for them, then I'll go." Combeferre offered, Enjolras letting out a long suffering growl **.**

"Fine," He complied, as much as it pained him. He knew Combeferre desperately needed a break, and how much he wanted to go on the trip.

"And if your temperature goes over 103, I'm coming right back," Combeferre added, Enjolras gritting his teeth, swallowing his pride, and nodding.

"You promise?" Courfeyrac chided, making his way to Enjolras' other side, finally chiming in.

"Fine." Enjolras muttered. Combeferre gave him a satisfied look, standing up,

"Come on now, let's get you some Tylenol, and into bed," He said, hoisting Enjolras to his feet. Enjolras groaned,

"I'm fine, Ferre'," He grumbled, but let Combeferre pull him into the kitchen anyways, Courfeyrac tagging along. After Enjolras had taken a healthy dose of pain reliever, he was soon forced into bed, despite his weak protests. Combeferre sat on the edge of his bed, on top of his main blanket, which resembled a French flag (What was wrong with being a little patriotic?).

"It's only 9:00." Enjolras complained, Combeferre stroking the side of his face,

"You need rest, Enjolras." Combeferre whispered, embracing him tightly. "Oh, I'll miss you so, Enj," He murmured, Enjolras smiling, and clinging to him in turn.

"As shall I," He breathed, Combeferre pulling back, and holding him by the shoulders,

"Promise me you'll do everything I asked, please," He begged, Enjolras yawning quietly, apparently tired, his body playing traitor to him,

"I promise." He responded, Combeferre gripping his hands, and fondly rubbing his thumbs over them, before he gently pushed Enjolras down into a lying position.

"Rest," He ordered, though in a soft voice, and he kissed Enjolras' forehead lightly, before walking out of the room, Courfeyrac walking in. He sat in the same place Combeferre had.

"I'm really going to miss you, Enjy," He voiced, Enjolras raising an eyebrow,

"I told you to stop calling me that!" He exclaimed, Courfeyrac grinning,

"There's the fearless leader we all love and admire." He joked, Enjolras rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I will miss you though, that's not a joke," He said in a more serious tone. Enjolras gave him a slight smile,

"Much as I loathe to admit it, I think we're all dangerously bordering the line of unhealthy in our codependency." He said, Courfeyrac laughing,

"Hah, you may just be right, but what works for us, works for us!" He said, giving Enjolras' cheek a quick kiss. "Goodnight, my friend, my pal, my buddy, mon am-"

"You can stop now." Enjolras said pointedly. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes,

"Spoilsport," He accused, before kissing Enjolras' cheek again, and walking out as Combeferre had done. Though his walk had more bounce than Combeferre's calm gait.

Enjolras rolled over in bed, his red blanket tucked securely around him, and he glanced at his wall, which was dark, due to the night sky, and the fact that Courfeyrac had turned the light off when he left. It was comforting, to be in the darkness, to him. The one time he didn't have to face life's problems was when he slept. And maybe if he slept, the weird aching would stop. And so, he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this happened! This is my first time posting to AO3, so if anything's off, feel free to tell me so I can fix it. The inspiration for this came from me wanting more de-aged fics for Les Mis, and finding few. So I decided to make my own. This was cross-posted on FFN, under the same name. The next few chapters should be out soon. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	2. In which the universe hates Grantaire, and Enjolras is suddenly a toddler

The universe was ultimately confused when it came to Grantaire. It would hate him for years on end, and then give him a random stroke of luck. In Grantaire's opinion, that particular day was one of them. He had woken up earlier than he usually did, and had left his bed, taking a quick shower, and immediately going to a large painting he had been working on for a while, after he grabbed an apple from his kitchen, which was quickly eaten and discarded, so as to not accidentally ingest paint. All the good kinds he could find were always toxic… Ah, well, so was the life of Auguste Grantaire.

After that, he had heard a small beep come from his phone, which he had left on the shelf at the corner of his painting room (a.k.a, the spare bedroom). At first he had ignored it, until it had beeped again, and then a few more times. Grantaire sighed, wiping off his green and yellow from paint colored hands with a rag he always kept nearby. He knew one more paint splatter on his phone wouldn't make much of a difference at this point, as the phone had so much paint on it, it legitimately looked like the paint was it's phone cover, but it was good to wipe the paint off his hands before it dried anyway. He opened his phone, seeing that the beeps had been texts, from Combeferre. Grantaire was slightly confused, as Combeferre rarely texted him, but shrugged, opening it.

 **From, Combeferre:** _Hi, Grantaire, you know how me and Courfeyrac are going on that trip down to see Courfeyrac's family? Well, we're leaving Enjolras alone, and I fear he's coming down with something. Would you mind going down to check on him?_

Grantaire's eyes widened. He could barely fathom Enjolras, the marble man, _Apollo_ , feeling under the weather like a mere mortal. He looked through the other text.

 **From, Combeferre:** _He's got a headache, and is nauseous. Oh, he also said his arms and legs were aching. And he's got a slightly elevated temperature of 100.2, I took it while he was sleeping._

**From, Combeferre:** _If you could go over, and take his temperature, also convince him to eat something, that would be nice. And maybe do this for the rest of the two weeks? If it's not too much trouble._

Grantaire snorted. Only Combeferre could sound so formal in a text. He was slightly honored that Combeferre had thought him worthy enough to assist Enjolras, of whom he was notoriously overprotective of, and was still a tiny bit shocked at the fact that _Apollo_ _could_ get sick. He was more delighted than anything, if he was being entirely honest, at a chance to see Enjolras without sounding or acting like a creepy stalker. Even if he really was a creepy stalker.

**To, Combeferre:** _sure thing, apollos in good hands_

**From, Combeferre:** _You know he doesn't like it when you call him that._

**To, Combeferre:** _thats why i do it_

**From, Combeferre:** _If he's very ill, call me. Courf and I are about 7 hours away, currently, but we can turn around at any time._

**To, Combeferre:** _dont worry i will go over and stop texting keep ur eyes on the road_

**From, Combeferre:** _Courfeyrac's driving._

**To, Combeferre:** _in that case. fear for ur life_

Grantaire turned his phone off, slipping it into his back pocket, and giving the painting he had been working on a thoughtful look. He could totally finish it later! Probably. Or at least, his chronic procrastination told him that. He went into his bedroom, quickly changing into a shirt with less paint splatters (They all had paint or oil pastels of some form staining them, though). He then grabbed his wallet, which contained his drivers license, that he had somehow managed to keep, heading out the door. He walked down a few floors of his apartment, until he approached the ground floor, to which he left the building entirely from.

He entered his small black car, driving for about 10 minutes before he reached Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras' apartment. Their apartment was notably more fancy and large then Grantaire's was, a nod towards the threes rather wealthy parents. He stepped inside, making his way up the stairs, until he was at the third floor. He walked over to the trio's apartment, fishing his key for it, that Courfeyrac had given him, out of his pockets.

He had been inside the apartment a few times before, at Courfeyrac's request, but he had never been inside of Enjolras' room. He was pretty sure he knew which one it was, and felt a few tendrils of nervousness creeping their way into his heart. What if Enjolras was angry at him for disturbing him in his room? He sucked in a breath, gathering all of his courage, and opened the door.

He quickly took in his surroundings with awe. To any other person, it would have been an ordinary room. But to Grantaire it wasn't. It was _Enjolras_ room. There was a desk in the corner, and a large French flag hanging up on the wall, next to it three signs, that read, " _Freedom for all people!" "Free speech advocate."_ And, " _Racial equality needs to happen. Now."_

There were newspaper clippings hung up as well, and papers in general were scattered across the room. There were two large bookshelves, and a cluttered desk. It was perfect, to Grantaire at least. Something on the bed caught his attention. And it wasn't the blanket that resembled the French flag. It was the fact that he was pretty sure Enjolras was not that small.

Enjolras was curled up on the bed, clasping his blanket to his chest, and his blonde curls (Funny, Grantaire was sure they were a lot longer then that…) created a halo-like look around him. Grantaire leaned closer to look at Enjolras, and promptly let out a shriek, when he realized something. That wasn't Enjolras in bed. That was a little kid. At his scream, the kid opened his eyes, revealing them to be brilliant sky blue. Blue. Like Enjolras'. But there was no way…?!

" _Ah!_ " The kid yelped at the sight of him, bolting upward in bed. "Who are you?!" He exclaimed, holding his tiny fists up in front of his face in self-defense. Grantaire felt like laughing, despite himself. The kid had to be Enjolras. What other kid would even think about fighting a full-grown man?

"I'm Grantaire, who're you?" Grantaire aked, the kid blinking at him.

"Julien." He said after a few seconds. Julien… Where had Grantaire heard that name from? Oh. Julien. Julien Enjolras. Well, now that was confirmed.

"Um… How old are you Julien?" Enjolras gave him a curious look, holding up a hand, and folding two fingers under, so that three fingers were remaining. Grantaire internally squealed. He was seeing Enjolras. At three. Of course, this also posed a big problem. Of what the _heck_ was going on?!

Okay… Grantaire could take Enjolras to the ER. But no one would believe him there… Joly was out of town, Bosseut and Musichetta with him. Feuilly and Eponine were crazy busy with their jobs… Grantaire refused to ask Marius for assistance… Bahorel. Yes, Bahorel was still in town! He took his phone out of his pocket, calling him. And it went straight to voicemail. Of course.

"Where's maman?" Enjolras suddenly questioned, Grantaire biting his lip, and searching for some sort of answer.

"Uh… She's… Busy." Grantaire hoped that was a suitable responce. It must have been, because Enjolras didn't panic, or cry, or whatever 3-year-olds did. Instead, he just stared at Grantaire, never once breaking eye-contact. Creepy.

"Where's Ferre'?" Enjolras inquired, beginning to lower himself off of the bed. Grantaire instinctively picked him up, placing him safely on the ground. Grantaire knew that Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had all known each other as children, but he wasn't aware that they had known each other since Enjolras was three.

"He watch me when maman is busy." Enjolras said seriously, and Grantaire was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Combeferre is on a trip." He told him. Enjolras frowned,

"Where's Courf?" He asked.

"Also on a trip," Grantaire answered. Enjolras pouted,

"Without me?" He whimpered. Grantaire gave a small laugh,

"They're coming back soon." He reassured the blonde-haired boy. Which reminded him, he needed to text Combeferre. Of course, Combeferre wouldn't believe him if he said what had happened, and he didn't really want to go through the hassle of convincing him.

 **To, Combeferre:** _e is really sick i dont know what to do_

Slightly dishonest, but not really that far off the mark, if you thought about it. Only about 10 seconds later, he got a reply.

 **From, Combeferre:** _What?! Has he started vomiting?_

**To, Combeferre:** _yes_

**From, Combeferre:** _Alright, Courf's turning around, we'll be there in about 8 hours. Stay with him until then?_

**To, Combeferre:** _sure thing_

Grantaire was honestly shocked at the loyalty the Triumvirate (As some had taken to calling the likes of Enj, Courf, and Ferre') held for each other. Being willing to turn around after driving for 8 hours just because someone told you your best friend's ill. Now, he was left to face the reality of the situation. He was supposed to watch a three-year-old, of whom had previously been the man he'd had a crush on for years, for eight hours. He looked around the room for a second, and felt his heart stop. Where was Enjolras?! Had he lost the child within the first 20 minutes of watching him?!

"Enjolras?!" He exclaimed, before realizing that Enjolras probably wouldn't answer to the name "Enjolras" as a kid. "Julien?!" He corrected himself, and he was responded to by a small yelp of acknowledgement from outside of the bedroom. He rushed outside, to see Enjolras casually standing outside the front door, fiddling with the doorknob. Grantaire quickly pulled him back.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He exclaimed, relief flooding through his body. "I took my eyes off of you for one second…"

"Going home. Bye." Enjolras answered, wriggling out of Grantaire's grasp and reaching for the doorknob once more. Grantaire pulled him back once more, and held him close to his chest.

"No, you can't go home, not yet. You need to stay with me." Grantaire ordered, Enjolras literally pouting at him. Had it been any other time, Grantaire would have practically melted at the cuteness. But right now, he needed to get Enjolras away from the door.

"Want to go home, Taire'," Enjolras whined, making a futile effort to pull away from Grantaire's grasp.

"No, you can't go home, yet." Grantaire had no clue where Enjolras had lived when he was younger. "I would take you to my house, but there's too much poisonous paint there." He explained, though he wasn't sure if Enjolras entirely understood any of what he said.

"Paint. I like paint. Ferre' does not, cause' Courf put paint on wall once. Ferre' say it too messy." Enjolras said in a-matter-of-fact voice. Grantaire blinked,

"Okay…" He replied. He then picked Enjolras up, Enjolras deciding to creepily stare at him once more.

"You're tiny, you know?" Grantaire observed, holding Enjolras up so their eyes were meeting. "Like, I get that you're three and all, but you're still awfully tiny for a three-year-old." Enjolras just stared at him, not understanding a word he said, most likely.

"So, why are you Julien, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac are Combeferre and Courfeyrac?" Grantaire asked, hoping to catch Enjolras' attention and distract him from any further escape attempts.

"Because _p_ _ére_ says I must be Julien." Enjolras said, like this explained everything. Grantaire sighed, giving Enjolras a firm look over, and frowning. He was still in his favorite red sweater, that he had apparently taken to falling asleep in. Only now, it was _way_ too long.

"I suppose I need to get you new clothes." Grantaire murmured. He briefly considered his options. There was no way he was taking Enjolras out in public, and he didn't have much money anyways, so he couldn't just go out to a store. His best solution was probably to go to Eponine's apartment (She had granted him a key), and see if she had any of Gavroche's old clothes from that age. She had a habit of keeping them around, partially from sentimentality, and partially, as she had put it, " _Just in case."_ Grantaire had been sure not to ask too much about her romance life after that.

"Hey, Julien, c'mon, we're going to go to my car." Grantaire said, Enjolras tilting his head,

"Why?" He asked.

"We need to go to my friends house, to pick up clothes for you." Grantaire explained. Enjolras gave him a horrified look, and crossed his arms,

"No! Ferre' said not ta' go in a car with strangers." Enjolras firmly stated. In his small, squeaky voice, he pronounced "strangers" more as "stwangers." Grantaire face-palmed. Of _course_ Combeferre had already lectured Enjolras on the likes of strangers. That was good, but was anything but convenient to his current situation.

"I'm not a stranger, Apollo, you know me, I'm Grantaire." Grantaire tried.

"Who is ' _Pollo_?" Enjolras asked Grantaire sighed,

"Never mind, c'mon." He said, picking Enjolras up, and walking into his apartment hallways. When they reached his car, which was old, grey, and rundown, he was faced with yet another dilemma. Weren't kids supposed to be in car seats at his age? Grantaire knew nothing of children, as his sister was older then him, and he had never had much experience with them at all. His solution to this problem was to sit Enjolras in the back seat of the car, and drive carefully, all whilst hoping that no one would report him to Child Protection Services or something.

After ten excruciating minutes, they had reached Eponine's apartment. He had taken Enjolras' up to her floor, and had unlocked her door, finding nobody home. Eponine was most likely at work, and Gavroche and Azelma were most likely at school. He poked around in Gavroche's closet, feeling slightly guilty (And horrified, why did the child have a pickaxe exactly?). He eventually ran into the correct size of clothing, and high-tailed out of there. Enjolras was surprisingly well-behaved during the play of events, able to occupy himself by humming under his breath and counting his fingers.

Once they were back at Enjolras' apartment, Grantaire set him on the floor, checking the time on his phone. It was only 2:00 pm. Combeferre and Courfeyrac wouldn't be back until around 7:00. Leaving him with 5 hours left. Thinking Enjolras must be hungry, Grantaire had given him a tap on the shoulders.

"You hungry?" Grantaire asked, Enjolras firmly shaking his head. Grantaire sighed,

"C'mon kid, you've gotta be hungry. You haven't eaten since you woke up." Enjolras glared at Grantaire, pressing his lips lightly together.

"Not hungry." Enjolras declared. Enjolras' stomach then chose that moment to growl loudly, and Grantaire chuckled, Enjolras giving his own belly one of his famous glares.

"Yeah, your body thinks differently." Grantaire said, taking Enjolras' hand and guiding him into the kitchen. He opened the pantry, which was to the left of the refrigerator. The pantry was large, and had four shelves, the one on the top labeled " **Combeferre** " by a sticky note, the one in the middle labeled " **Courf** ," the next labeled " **Enjolras** ," and the last labeled " **All**." He scanned through Enjolras' shelf, which had scarce pickings. He frowned,

"Nothing suitable for toddlers here, of course." He muttered to himself unsurprised. Was three even a toddler age? He then took to scanning through the " _All"_ shelf. There was a box of cheerios there. That sounded like an okay thing for a kid to eat. He held it up in front of Enjolras', Enjolras shaking his head, much to Grantaire's dismay.

"Don't like." Enjolras declared. Grantaire sighed, placing a small bag of pretzels in front of him instead. Enjolras shook his head again.

"Of course you'd be a picky eater." Grantaire muttered. The shaking head thing continued for another few minutes, and he quickly ran out of hope. But He wasn't about to give up. He couldn't just let Enjolras go hungry! Then, he placed an unopened can of applesauce in front of the blonde. Enjolras gave a squeak of delight, Grantaire letting out a sigh of relief. "You want applesauce?" He questioned, desperation evident in his tone.

"Yes!" Enjolras exclaimed, Grantaire poking around the kitchen until he procured a spoon and a bowl. He poured a small amount of applesauce into it, before placing the now opened applesauce in the fridge. Enjolras quickly ate it, though Grantaire thought he may have gotten a little bit more on him then in him. After he wiped Enjolras off with a wet paper towel, Enjolras had climbed onto the sofa in the middle of the living room, Grantaire following him. Grantaire turned the TV to some sort of kiddy thing, that seemed appropriate (Though there was a bit of talk about "execution…"). Enjolras wasn't really enticed by the show, and crawled over to Grantaire, climbing onto his chest.

Grantaire froze, and Enjolras curled into a tight ball against him, closing his eyes. Grantaire had rubbed the small childs back, as Enjolras' breathing evened out. Grantaire didn't dare fall asleep, afraid of what would happen if Enjolras' woke up before him. Enjolras continued to sleep for _four_ entire hours, which probably wasn't normal, come to think of it, but Grantaire didn't think much of it.

And then, Combeferre and Courfeyrac burst into the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. The third chapter should be out soon! Please review!


	3. In which Combeferre and Courfeyrac return, and a sweater is placed

"Did... You just run over a bird?"

"Probably!" Combeferre was starting to regret letting Courfeyrac drive. In all fairness, he probably shouldn't have let him in the first place, but Courfeyrac was a much faster driver than him. Enjolras and Courfeyrac always banded together to complain about Combeferre's " _snail driving_ ," whenever the three friends were in the car together.

"Courfeyrac, you're going twenty over the speed limit."

"Your point?" Combeferre was pretty sure that Courfeyrac had his license suspended at one point, come to think of it… Combeferre glanced at his phone, rereading the texts Grantaire had sent him for the thousandth time.

"I can hear you worrying, stop it." Courfeyrac came in helpfully. Combeferre sighed,

"You can't _hear_ people worry, Courfeyrac. And I can't help it!" He protested. Courfeyrac's voice softened,

"Hey, he's gonna be alright, Ferre'." He reassured.

"Keep your eyes on the road, monsieur," Combeferre demanded with a smile, Courfeyrac grinning. Combeferre's smile dropped, and he stared out the window of the passenger seat, out at the mountains, which were beginning to turn red and yellow from the upcoming autumn, the fields, which were still green, and the small shops. "I just know something's not right with Enjolras. I can _feel_ it." Combeferre insisted, Courfeyrac nodding,

"Yeah… You're usually right about these things," He said.

"He just seemed… Off. I don't know how else to put it." Combeferre murmured. Courfeyrac nodded,

"I can turn around, if you want. My parents will understand, they adore Enjolras." Courfeyrac offered. Combeferre looked down at his phone.

"We'll see how Grantaire says he's doing." Combeferre decided. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, as Courfeyrac fiddled around with the radio stations, putting on something weird that slightly resembled country music.

"What are the chances Grantaire actually showed up?" Courfeyrac asked, Combeferre rolling his eyes.

"I would smack you with something, if my life didn't depend on your already less then desirable driving skills." Combeferre threatened, "Of course Grantaire will show up. Is there anything he wouldn't do for Enjolras?"

"Right, right, just joking. Those two really are oblivious, aren't they?" Courfeyrac said.

"God, yes," Combeferre responded. His phone vibrated. He quickly read the text Grantaire had no doubt sent him, and his face fell. He fired back an answer. "Courfeyrac, Enjolras' sick." He nervously reported. Courfeyrac just gave a simple nod, and slowed the car, looking for an okay parking lot to turn around in.

"I'm really sorry we have to miss seeing your parents." Combeferre murmured, as they safely turned around, heading in the other direction.

"It's fine, I think you actually wanted to see them more than I did. Besides, you and Enjolras come before anything else to me." Courfeyrac said, Combeferre smiling.

"I told Grantaire we'd be there by around 7:00." He told Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac grinned,

"We can make that 6:00."

…..

It was with immense relief that they pulled into the familiar parking lot of their apartment eight hours later. Combeferre opened his door, his feet touching the first solid ground they'd had since their toilet break four hours earlier. He stretched out, Courfeyrac doing the same.

"We'll bring the luggage up later," Courfeyrac said, and they entered the apartment building, going up stairs until they were on their floor. Combeferre took the key from his bag, opening the door to their place specifically. Combeferre and Courfeyrac burst into the apartment.

Combeferre wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting, but the picture that had waited for him on the couch was certainly not it. Grantaire was there, thankfully, and he was lying on the couch, a small child clutched to his chest. A small child that looked exactly like Enjolras had when he was two or three years old. Grantaire turned his head towards Combeferre and Courfeyrac, blushing,

"I… Can explain. Kind of." He said.

"Good," Combeferre replied coolly. Had Grantaire done something to Enjolras?! But he wouldn't… Right? A million thoughts raced through his head, each more fantastical than the last. Courfeyrac put an arm on his shoulder, some of the tension in Combeferre's body leaving, but most of it stubbornly remaining.

"So," Grantaire murmured, shifting the sleeping toddler into a more comfortable position. "I walked in, to check on him, and I just found him like this. I'm pretty sure it's Enjolras though. He says his name's Julien, he knows both of you, and the only thing he'd eat was applesauce." Combeferre and Courfeyrac's eyes widened.

"It is him," Combeferre whispered. Grantaire gave a small nod and shrug. Courfeyrac simply stared.

"But… That's impossible!" He exclaimed, Combeferre gently removing Enjolras from Grantaire's chest, letting the child rest his head against Combeferre's shoulder instead.

"And yet it happened," Grantaire murmured. Combeferre and Courfeyrac took a moment, for the shock to sink in, before Combeferre began asking questions,

"So, you just found him like this?" He asked, Grantaire nodding. Combeferre sighed,

"Well, that doesn't lead us anywhere…" He muttered. Grantaire nodded, before giving out his own question.

"How does Enjolras know you two, at such a young age?" He inquired. Courfeyrac smiled,

"I've known Enjolras since the day he was born, just a few months after me!" He declared.

"Yes," Combeferre confirmed, "Our parents all lived next door to each other, and our mothers were all best friends. Our fathers couldn't stand each other, though. Anyways, we all grew up together. How old is he, right now?" Combeferre queried.

"Three." Grantaire supplied.

"Ah, okay. I would have been eight then, and Courfeyrac would have been three as well." Combeferre informed. Grantaire narrowed his eyes,

"You're _five_ years older than them?!" He exclaimed. Combeferre blinked,

"Oh, you didn't know that?" He said. Grantaire rolled his eyes,

"I suppose it explains why you're years more mature than us." He joked, Courfeyrac grinning,

"That, my friend, has nothing to do with age, that is simply Combeferre." He said.

"Yes, anyway, I put off college for a few years in favor of helping the community, and so I could go with these two," Combeferre explained. Enjolras stirred from Combeferre's shoulder, making a tiny sound, and opening his eyes. He blinked a few times, yawning, before he looked at Combeferre, without the hostility he had shown Grantaire before.

" _Ferre_?!" He exclaimed, Combeferre grinning,

"Yeah, it's me buddy, just bigger." He explained. Enjolras broke into a wide smile, Courfeyrac leaning over,

"And it's Courf!" He exclaimed. Enjolras giggled,

"You're very big now." He observed, Combeferre chuckling,

"Yes, Julien, we are." He said. Enjolras snuggled into Combeferre, as warm a look as Grantaire had ever seen from Apollo grace the face of the child. Combeferre held Enjolras close to him, sitting down on the couch. "What are we going to do?" He asked. Both Courfeyrac and Grantaire were silent.

"Well, the others should know about this, first off." Courfeyrac offered, Combeferre nodding,

"I'll call an emergency meeting." He said. He looked at Enjolras. "Now, what are we going to do about the… Situation?" Combeferre asked, Courfeyrac and Grantaire thinking.

"I considered taking him to the ER, but I knew no one would believe me," Grantaire said.

"Yes…" Combeferre murmured.

"Cops?" Courfeyrac suggested.

"Too untrustworthy right now." Combeferre shot down. They were all silent, this time. Combeferre heaved out a heavy sigh,

"We'll just need to take care of him, in the meantime, until we figure out what to do." He decided, level-headed, despite the absolute… Uniqueness, of the situation. Enjolras, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, piped up,

"When we go home, Ferre?" He asked, Combeferre giving him a warm look.

"We can't go home yet." He said calmly, Enjolras frowning. Courfeyrac quickly jumped in,

"But we're all here together! We're going to have a good time." He promised, lifting Enjolras from Combeferre's arms. Enjolras gave him a small smile, and Courfeyrac grinned back at him.

"Did you feed him, Grantaire?" Combeferre quizzed.

"Yep. Remember how I was talking about applesauce earlier? That was what he ate." Grantaire informed. Combeferre gave Enjolras an exasperated look.

"Wonderful, we're starting this trend again," He murmured. Grantaire frowned,

"What trend?" He questioned. Courfeyrac chuckled,

"From the ages 2 to 6 one of the only things Enjolras would eat was applesauce. And I would only eat sandwiches. Needless to say, we drove Combeferre nuts." He recalled, a fond, far-away look in his eyes. Combeferre shared no sort of look, his filled with vexation.

"Out of desperation, once, I literally just put applesauce on bread and gave it to Enjolras. He was not impressed." Combeferre said, a hint of amusement entering his features.

"Didn't he throw it at the wall?" Courfeyrac murmured. Combeferre sighed,

"Yes, he did, and I had to quickly clean it off, while watching both of you, and hope I could finish before my parents came home," Combeferre confirmed. Grantaire couldn't help but let out a tiny snort of amusement.

"So," Combeferre said, pulling out his phone, "An emergency meeting…" He opened the Les Amis group chat.

_**Les Amis Groupchat:** _

**Combeferre:** _Emergency meeting in two hours at my place. Those of you who can't make it in person can Skype in._

**Eponine:** _why?_

**Feuilly:** _What's going on?_

**Combeferre:** _It's easier to show than tell. And somebody tell Bahorel about it, we all know how he always mutes his phone, and never remembers to unmute it._

**Feuilly:** _Done._

Combeferre closed his phone, now focusing all of his attention at Enjolras, who happened to be one of the most adorable children Combeferre had ever seen, what with his cute little blonde curls, and his wide blue eyes.

"Alright, Courf, give him over," Combeferre said, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes, as he passed Enjolras over to Combeferre.

"I went over to Ponine's, got him some clothes. Some of them are a bit big, but it's better than nothing." Grantaire reported. Combeferre nodded,

"We may need more applesauce. We'll start getting things if this doesn't go away in a week." He decided.

"Want to go home, Ferre, tired." Enjolras insisted, squirming around in Combeferre's grasp.

"No, Julien," Combeferre affirmed, Enjolras letting out a muffled sound. Grantaire's eyes widened, as he seemed to realize that the sound was a muffled sob. Enjolras cried quietly into Combeferre's shirt, thankfully not prone to throwing huge tantrums, even at his age. Combeferre, having dealt with Enjolras crying more then anyone else ever had, excluding Courfeyrac, simply rocked him back and forth, Enjolras cries slowly dying down. Combeferre placed Enjolras on the ground, Courfeyrac taking Enjolras and swinging him through the air. This made Enjolras happy once more, and the tears were placed with giggles. Combeferre smiled, noticing Grantaire's wide-eyed look.

"What?" He demanded. Grantaire blushed,

"I've just… Never seen Enjolras cry before, cept' that one time I actually did make him cry, but even then, Courfeyrac wouldn't let me see him at all, even to apologize." Grantaire explained. Combeferre crossed his arms.

"He is three, in an unrecognizable place, probably hungry, and has no idea where his mother is. I think he can cry, thank you very much!" Combeferre exclaimed, Grantaire wincing. Combeferre quickly composed himself, sighing,

"I'm… Sorry, Grantaire. I'm just worried, and on my nerves end." Combeferre murmured, Grantaire smiling.

"It's alright." He reassured.

"Guys." Courfeyrac suddenly said, Combeferre and Grantaire turned in his direction. He was pointing at the couch, which Enjolras had curled up on, falling asleep quickly after. Combeferre's cool disposition melted, and he beamed at the sight, walking over and rubbing his hands down the youngers back.

"Courfeyrac, do me a favor and fetch his sweater?" Combeferre asked, Courfeyrac nodding, giving him a mock salute, and exiting the living room, coming back with the red sweater, which Grantaire had thankfully left on Enjolras' bed earlier.

"Is it really normal for a kid to sleep this much?" Grantaire asked.

"He's probably just exhausted from the excitement." Combeferre said, taking the sweater, and delicately wrapping it around Enjolras' tiny, sleeping frame. Enjolras shifted in his sleep, letting out a tiny squeak. Combeferre smiled, kissing his forehead, before walking into the kitchen, Courfeyrac and Combeferre following. They stayed in there for quite some time, making sure to frequently pop their heads out to check on Enjolras.

About an hour and forty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but knew I had to get it out of my way in order to continue. Thanks for reading! (And please comment)


	4. In which there is an emergency meeting and a plan is made

Grantaire walked up to the front door, leaning against it. "Who's there?!" He called.

" _The French Revolution_!" Came the response. Grantaire rolled his eyes. Ever since Enjolras had shouted that at one of their protests, it had become a customary saying among the Amis. Grantaire didn't bother to point out the large differences between the revolution, and what they were currently trying to do, not really wanting a fight.

Grantaire opened the door, quite a few people walking in. All of the rest of the Amis, minus Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta. Feuilly sat down heavily on the couch, no one seeming to notice Enjolras yet.

"I hope this is important, I missed a break in work for this." He muttered. Bahorel, who had thankfully been informed of the meeting, stood beside the couch.

"Wait, you get breaks?" He joked with a smirk, Feuilly rolling his eyes,

"Hahah, very funny." He grumbled. Had grown Enjolras been present, he would have instantly started going off about how it "wasn't" funny, and how Feuilly's employer was a demon. But he wasn't. Everyone in the group seemed to notice the silence, and Eponine, who had brought Gavroche with her, was the first to speak up,

"Where's Enjolras?" She said. Grantaire picked up Enjolras, gently rousing him. He then placed Enjolras on his lap, everyone who had not been present for the day's events giving the child a confused look.

"Who's that?" Feuilly asked, as Bahorel played around with his iPad, trying to get Skype to work, so that Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta could join. The group had barely ever held emergency meetings, and the couple of times they had, they had been very important, so everyone was quick to show up, even Marius, who was hovering awkwardly in the corner of the room.

"This… Is Enjolras." Courfeyrac introduced. Gavroche frowned,

"Enjolras has a kid? But, he would never!" He exclaimed. Courfeyrac shook his head,

"The kid is Enjolras. Enjolras is the kid." Courfeyrac attempted to explain. Everyone froze, before Bahorel shouted out,

"There's no way! You must be trying to prank us!" Grantaire shook his head vehemently,

"Julien, what's your name, and who are your best friends?" Grantaire asked, speaking every word slowly and carefully so that Enjolras would understand. Enjolras, still half out of it from sleep, yawned.

"My name is Julien Enjolwas, maman say I will say it right when I am big. My friends are Couf and Ferre'." He murmured, leaning into Grantaire. More shocked silence.

"Alright," Eponine said, breaking the silence, "Run us through what happened, will y'all?" Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Grantaire looked at each other, nodding.

"So," Combeferre began, before pausing, "Are Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta in yet?" He questioned, directing it at Bahorel.

" _We're here._ " Came a voice from the iPad. Bahorel dropped the iPad in shock at the suddenness of the voice. Quick-thinking Gavroche thankfully caught it, passing it to Feuilly for safe-keeping. Feuilly held it up, to show Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta on the screen.

" _So… What's going on?"_ The voice, apparently Musichetta's said. Courfeyrac gave them a quick explanation, and the three reacted in largely the same way the others had, first in disbelief, then shock, then horror, and then curiosity.

"What happened is this. Courfeyrac and I were getting to leave to go to see Courfeyrac's parents, as you all know. Enjolras was supposed to come with us, but was too busy. We were spending the last night together, and he said he felt ill. I thought it might be the beginning of a bout of stomach flu. We got him into bed early, and were gone by the time he woke up. I texted Grantaire to go check on him." Combeferre began, Grantaire nodding, and telling his part,

"I came here, and just found him like this. So, of course, I texted Combeferre, and had him and Courfeyrac come back." Courfeyrac piped in,

"Mhm! He's been largely the same since Combeferre and I came here. Just a normal three-year-old." He finished. There was a moment of silence, and Joly spoke up,

" _You're… Absolutely sure it's him?"_ He said. Combeferre nodded,

"Positive." He answered. "Do any of you have any ideas on how this could have happened?" He asked.

"Oh, sure, each wilder as the next." Feuilly murmured.

"Well, how was he acting a few days before this?" Jehan, who was sitting on the floor's, soft voice entered the conversation.

"He wasn't acting that different at the past few meetings, I think." Bahorel recalled, shrugging, "I don't know…R, you're the resident Apollo-stalker, what do you think?" Bahorel was only half joking. Grantaire went red,

"I don't stalk him, Bahorel." He grumbled, looking down at his shoes.

"Yeah, yah kinda do." Gavroche countered. Grantaire glared at him, a glare that could almost match one of Enjolras' icy ones. Gavroche let out a squeak, shifting closer to Eponine.

"He was acting pretty much the same last meeting. Called me useless about three times, and delivered another speech on freedom or whatever," Grantaire reported, "He was wincing a bit, like his legs and arms were sore, but that was it."

"He did say his legs ached a few days ago, but I just gave him Motrin and didn't think much of it. Thought it was just from the last stunt he pulled at a protest," Combeferre reflected.

"So…" Marius said, asking the question they were all thinking, "Do you think somebody did this to him… Or it just happened?" More silence.

"Why would somebody do this to him though?! Who could possibly hate him?" Combeferre asked, in the tone a mother would use to talk about her child.

" _A lot of people._ " Joly pointed out.

"Yes… You're right," Combeferre corrected.

" _These things don't just happen. Somebody must have done it._ " Bossuet decided. There was a murmur of agreement across the room.

"Now the questions are who, why, and how." Courfeyrac supplied.

"Honestly!" Gavroche suddenly exclaimed after a minute or silence, as no one had answered any of the questions, "Whatever it was, it was probably given to him like poison! He doesn't have any wounds we know of."

"What're you getting at?" Courfeyrac inquired. Eponine let out a loud, exasperated sigh, putting a hand on her little brothers shoulder,

"He means someone probably slipped something into his drink." She explained, rolling her eyes, " _Losers._ "

"While it's slightly concerning that you two suggested that, you may be onto something…" Combeferre murmured. Enjolras began squirming, and climbed out of Grantaire's lap, now awake enough to notice all of the people in the room. He looked at Combeferre, his eyes wide.

"Of course he'd be a flipping perfect three-year-old," Eponine muttered, taking in Enjolras' angelic features. With his sky blue eyes, and slightly longer than average golden hair, which curled in all of the right places, Enjolras looked about as adorable as a child his age could get.

"You should see him when he wakes up in the morning," Courfeyrac commented, "Not so angel-like then." Combeferre gave a small chuckle,

"No, his hair is more like that woman with snake hair in the mornings." He claimed.

"Medusa." Grantaire gave out. Combeferre smiled,

"Yes, Medusa." He confirmed.

"Who are they, Ferre'?" Enjolras loudly whispered, everyone hearing it. Bahorel looked like he would melt from the cuteness of the toddler, which was the exact way Grantaire felt on the inside.

"These are our friends." Combeferre responded, Enjolras walked over to Combeferre, reaching his arms out to be picked up, with trust Grantaire had never seen from Enjolras in his eyes. Combeferre gladly lifted the boy, letting Enjolras hide his face in the much larger person's chest.

"He's never been good in social situations." Combeferre explained, running his fingers through Enjolras' hair.

"Never knew you were so good with kids." Eponine observed.

"Oh, I've never really been good with kids. I'm just good with Enjolras," Combeferre explained.

"You're good with Gavroche." Eponine pointed out. Gavroche glared at her,

"I ain't a kid no more!" He exclaimed.

"10 is still a kid," Eponine replied, Gavroche crossing his arms. Before they could debate the subject further, Combeferre cut in.

"We need to figure out some sort of schedule with watching him. We cannot leave a three-year-old alone, and I do not trust anyone outside of this group with him." Combeferre announced. " _And some people in this group._ " He muttered in afterthought.

"Should we all take shifts or something?" Jehan suggested, twisting his long hair around his fingers.

"That may not work. We all have different jobs that we have to be in at different times." Feuilly contradicted. Combeferre thought for a second, before pulling a notebook down from a bookshelf, and grabbing a pen from a cup holder, doing all of this whilst balancing Enjolras on his hip.

"Everyone, write down your typical work schedules here." He said, "We can figure out something from here. Enjolras will be staying with Courfeyrac and I, of course, but we'll need someone to look after him when we go to work. Feuilly, you can be exempt from this, if you'd like, since you have a lot of occupations, and so few time. Eponine, you can as well, since you already have kids to look after."

"M'not a kid!" Gavroche protested, Eponine affectionately ruffling his hair. Combeferre passed the notebook and pen to Bahorel first, waiting for the notebook to be passed around the room. Grantaire took this time to move closer to Combeferre, and fawn over Enjolras, who seemed to have taken a liking to him for whatever reason.

"There are lots of people, Taire'." Enjolras reported, lifting head off of Combeferre's chest, Grantaire smiling,

"Yeah, there are, and that's good. We have lots of friends." He informed.

"They are my friends?" Enjolras inquired, tilting his head sideways. Grantaire laughed,

"Yes, they are your friends." He confirmed. The rest of the Amis watched this interaction in amusement. Grantaire was finally passed the notebook, and he quickly put down,

**Free at almost any time**

His career as an artist gave him a lot of flexibility, which almost made up for the lack of money. What really made up for that lack was the fact that he loved doing it. He then passed the notebook, which had now gone through everyone, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta having told their schedules to Feuilly, who still possessed Bahorels's iPad, to Combeferre, who began looking through it, most likely creating a thousand charts and graphs in his mind of the data.

Marius began talking to an annoyed Courfeyrac about his love life, and Bahorel and Feuilly began to joke around, Eponine and Gavroche joining in. Jehan simply watched his friends with amusement.

"What are we going to do about Enjolras' job?" Grantaire asked, Combeferre sighing,

"We'll just call him in sick. And if his boss gets suspicious, explain the whole situation. I've met Lamarque, he seems like a very nice man." Combeferre answered, setting Enjolras down on the ground as he continued looking through the notebook. Enjolras climbed into Grantaire's lap, apparently not keen on socializing with people he didn't already know.

"Can I take a picture of him?!" Courfeyrac begged, Combeferre looking up from the notebook,

"Why?" He asked.

"Because he's adorable! Don't you want a picture of him saved?" Courfeyrac defended.

"Nothing that would be particularly mortifying to him once we get him back to normal." Combeferre ordered. Courfeyrac just gave him a smirk, taking out his phone and snapping a few.

"Alright." Combeferre finally said, "Based on the information you've given me, Jehan will take him Monday, Bahorel for a few hours Tuesday, and Grantaire for a couple more, Grantaire alone on Wednesday, Joly and crew Thursday, Cosette Friday, since I am not entrusting a child to Marius, and Courfeyrac's always got the weekend off." Combeferre read. The group seemed mainly satisfied with their times, Eponine standing up,

"Feuilly and I can be backup, in case someone's unavailable." She offered, Feuilly giving a nod. Combeferre bobbed his head in approval.

"I can also be backup." Grantaire came in. Combeferre frowned,

"You've already got him a lot, if you want you can just-" He started, Grantaire cutting him off,

"It's fine, Combeferre. Mini-Apollo and I will be fine together." Enjolras blinked at him,

"Who is Pollo?" He asked, the question the same as the one he had asked earlier. Grantaire grinned,

"You." He replied, Enjolras wrinkling his nose,

"I am not Pollo. I am Julien." He protested, all of the Amis bursting into laughter at how much that sentence mirrored Enjolras' older self. Grantaire rolled his eyes,

"Very well, Julien," he said, tickling Enjolras' belly. Enjolras shrieked, letting out a few loud giggles. Combeferre smiled,

"Cute as the two of you are, please give me the baby, it's about time for him to get some sleep." He said. Grantaire put Enjolras down, Enjolras taking Combeferre's hand.

" _He's three, Combeferre, I don't think that's baby age._ " Bossuet pointed out.

"He's the baby of the group now," Combeferre defended. Gavroche beamed,

"Ey', that means I'm no longer the baby!" He exclaimed. Eponine rolled her eyes,

"Temporarily," She corrected him. Gavroche scowled at her, but his eyes were sparking with laughter and contentedness, something that looked particularly good in his eyes, of which had been devoid of a safe and stable life for so long.

"Alright, gang, I think it's about time to clear out," Feuilly said, "Enjolras needs his rest, and he's not going to get any with us all being loud here." Bahorel nodded in agreement.

"Bye y'all." Eponine said, taking Gavroche's hand and walking out. Bahorel, Jehan, Marius, and Feuilly were quick to follow them, Grantaire turned to leave with them, and Enjolras let out a loud shriek. Grantaire whipped around, giving Combeferre, who was holding Enjolras' hand still, and Courfeyrac, who was flopped out on the couch, an alarmed look.

"No yelling. Use your words, Julien." Combeferre coaxed. Enjolras frowned,

"Do not go, Taire'!" He begged. Grantaire stood frozen, torn between the feeling he was intruding on the Triumvirate's space, and the overwhelming urge to stay with Enjolras.

"You can stay here, Grantaire," Combeferre reassured him, "It's fine." Grantaire let out a sigh of relief, walking over to Enjolras, and cupping his cheek.

"Was he always this clingy?" Grantaire asked, Courfeyrac giving a laugh from the couch.

"He still is this clingy," He sniggered, Combeferre shooting him a glare,

"Enough teasing our friend." He reprimanded. He paused for a second, "I suppose we'll have to take a shopping trip tomorrow, in order to buy everything Enj will need. The old clothes from Gavroche will have to do for now." He observed, lifting Enjolras up. He carried him into his bedroom, Courfeyrac getting up from the couch and following him in. Grantaire stayed in the living room, really not wanting to intrude on that. The remaining two thirds of the Triumvirate exited the room a second later, both sitting down on the couch.

"So… My best friend is a three-year-old." Combeferre murmured, Courfeyrac shifting on the couch, and laying his head across Combeferre's shoulder. Combeferre gave a hint of a smile at the touch, and leaned back, closing his eyes, while stroking his hand through Courfeyrac's hair. Grantaire stood awkwardly in the center of the room.

"So, uh, Grantaire, how's your art going?" Courfeyrac asked, Combeferre standing up and going into the kitchen.

"Pretty good." Grantaire reported, "I've been working on a large painting for a while now."

"Is it another large depiction of Enjolras?" Courfeyrac joked, Grantaire going red.

"Courfeyrac, stop teasing him," Combeferre chided from the kitchen, coming back out with three bowls of salad and three forks. He passed one to each Courfeyrac and Grantaire.

"I figured none of us have eaten much today," Combeferre explained, "And I needed to use the tomatoes and carrots, so I put this together real quick." Courfeyrac gave a nod of thanks, and Grantaire a mumble of one. They slowly ate their salad in silence, the opening of Enjolras' door startling them. Enjolras peeked his head out from behind it, his French flag blanket wrapped around him. Combeferre instantly abandoned his salad, which was only half finished, making his way over to Enjolras.

"Why are you still up, buddy?" He inquired, taking Enjolras tiny hands into his own. Enjolras blinked, wiping at his eyes with a hand,

"I cannot sleep, the room is dark and I am alone." Enjolras articulated. Combeferre smiled, taking Enjolras' hand and leading him fully into the living room.

"You can sleep with me," He instantly offered, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes, "You're going to establish a habit, Ferre." He warned, Combeferre raising an eyebrow,

"You going to come with us?" Courfeyrac nodded,

"Heck yeah, just like the old days." He exclaimed. Grantaire frowned,

"What old days?" he asked. Courfeyrac smirked, his eyes full of reminiscence.

"Mm, back when we were young, and we would stay at hotels with Combeferre's parents when we went on trips with them, we would all sleep in the same bed, and we would do it other times to, when one of us was sick, or having a particularly rough time." Courfeyrac recalled. Grantaire smiled,

"That sounds nice, I never got to sleep in the same bed as Eponine, since she's a girl and I'm a boy, and apparently people have a problem with that." He said. Eponine had been Grantaire's best friend since middle school, and she had been there every step of the way since.

"But… You're gay." Courfeyrac pointed out. Grantaire shrugged,

"Stupid gender sterotype stuff I guess," He replied. Combeferre gave a sympathetic nod, leading Enjolras into his bedroom, Courfeyrac following behind him, the usual bounce in his step dragged down by the exhaustion of the day. Grantaire followed them in, to say a small goodnight to Enjolras, then quickly left. He heard a small murmur from the room.

" _Courfeyrac and I love you very much._ " He briefly wondered if there had ever been a friendship as close as these three were. He stretched out across the couch, where he'd be sleeping. Maybe they all had this situation handled after all. He then closed his eyes, despite the early time, waiting for the next day to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty fun one to write. I love to play around with all of the different Amis actions and interactions. Well, next chapter should be out soon!


	5. In which a trip to the store is made, and a turtle rescued

Courfeyrac opened his eyes, yawning and blinking. Wait, where was he again? Oh, right. He rolled over on his side, seeing Enjolras and Combeferre asleep next to him. Enjolras was still three. Courfeyrac slipped out of bed, walking on his tip-toes so as not to wake up his friends. He glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was 4:00 am. Splendid.

He walked into the living room, spotting Grantaire laying across the couch, lightly snoring. He smiled warmly, taking a blanket from his own room and laying it across Grantaire's sleeping frame. He went into the kitchen, yawning, and opening the pantry. He took a box of Fruit Loops, pouring himself a bowl a bowl, and sat down at the dining table, eating slowly. It was Saturday, which meant he didn't have any work. He was a History teacher at a middle school, one of his best and worst life decisions at the same time.

A good thing about that decision, was that he didn't have to go to work on the weekends, even if he still did have work. Which reminded him, he probably should get to grading the most recent history tests he had just had returned to him…

" _Mhm,_ " Courfeyrac looked up from his cereal, seeing Combeferre leaning against the doorway to his room. He was blinking rapidly, and was only half awake. Both Enjolras and Combeferre took a while to fully wake up, usually. Courfeyrac had an "off and on" switch as Combeferre liked to put it. He basically was highly energetic when awake, and nearly impossible to wake up when asleep. He always woke up fully awake. In his opinion, that made the most sense. The "on and off switch" comment had then led to Enjolras smirking and saying that "Courfeyrac didn't have an off switch." At that comment, best friend or not, Courfeyrac had chucked a book at Enjolras' head.

"You're awake rather early, even for you." Courfeyrac murmured, speaking as quiet as he could get, since Grantaire was still out cold on the couch, and he presumed Enjolras was still asleep in Combeferre's room.

"You are as well," Combeferre replied, his voice barely more then a whisper. Courfeyrac gave him a tender smile,

"Touché, my friend." Courfeyrac responded. Combeferre sat down in the chair next to Courfeyrac, letting his best friend rub his back. Early mornings were one of the few times Combeferre let down his serious demeanor, and allowed himself to lean on others, instead of having others lean on him. And early mornings were usually the only time Enjolras would shut up about freedom, or diversity, or liberty, or whatever the new word of the day was for him. In short, Courfeyrac liked early morning.

"Ack, I'm making coffee," Combeferre finally decided, standing up and lumbering into the kitchen. Grantaire opened his eyes from the couch, sitting up,

"What time is it?" He grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"Four something." Courfeyrac supplied, Grantaire groaning.

"To flipping early for any mortal to wake up," He muttered.

"Coffee." Combeferre announced about five minutes later, handing a mug to each Grantaire and Courfeyrac. Both let out murmurs of appreciation. And so, they sat together for an hour or so, in silence. Courfeyrac eventually turned on the TV to some sitcom thing to entertain himself.

"Whelp," Grantaire said finally, "I've oughta be heading out," He stood up, Combeferre smiling at him,

"Thank you, Grantaire, for everything." He said, Grantaire smiling back,

"Anything for my friends." He replied, heading out the door. A few minutes later, Enjolras' door opened, and Enjolras walked into the living room, climbing into Courfeyrac's lap. Courfeyrac stroked his hair, while Combeferre got up, going to the kitchen, most likely to make breakfast.

"I want maman," Enjolras murmured, Courfeyrac giving him a sad look,

"I know, Julien. You just have to be patient," He reassured him. Enjolras frowned,

"I do not like being patientened," He mumbled, Courfeyrac refraining from laughing at Enjolras rather _eloquent_ word choice. Combeferre set down three plates on the dining table, Courfeyrac standing up, and Enjolras following him. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Seemed like a perfectly fine breakfast to Courfeyrac. Enjolras, apparently, thought differently.

"Am not hungry." Enjolras proclaimed, slipping out of his chair, and attempting to make a getaway. Combeferre thankfully grabbed him before he could exit the living room.

"You are to hungry," He replied.

"No!" Enjolras exclaimed, trying to sweep the plate off the table. Combeferre caught his hand, lightly scolding him,

"No, we don't sweep things off the table, that makes a mess." Enjolras pouted,

"Not hungry." He stubbornly repeated. Combeferre sighed, knowing this was a battle he could not win. He poured some applesauce into a bowl, letting Enjolras eat that instead.

"He's going to need to eat something other than applesauce," Courfeyrac told Combeferre, Combeferre sighing,

"I know… Pick up Cheez-Its on your grocery run today, he ate those some when he was younger," Combeferre suggested, Courfeyrac nodded,

"Already on the list," He replied. Courfeyrac and Combeferre worked very well together, each almost seeming to know what the other's move was before he even made it. Almost like they could read each other's minds.

"Alright. I'm still not sure if I like the idea of Enjolras going out. There are other people, which means lots of germs, and he could get lost… Or he could get hurt-" Combeferre began, Courfeyrac quickly cutting him off,

"He'll be fine, Ferre, I won't let anything happen to him." Courfeyrac promised. Combeferre sighed,

"I suppose." He murmured, leaving the living room and disappearing into his bedroom to get dressed for the day. Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras,

"It's you and me for most of the day, buddy. Combeferre's a doctor, so he needs to go work." Enjolras blinked at him,

"Ferre is a doctor?" He questioned, chewing on the end of his spoon. Courfeyrac promptly took the spoon out of his mouth, setting it back into Enjolras hands,

"Yes, he's a doctor." Courfeyrac confirmed. Enjolras smiled,

"Like he saided, member' Courf?" He asked. Courfeyrac nodded,

"Yep, like he always 'saided'." He mimicked, Enjolras giggling. Combeferre walked back into the room, wetting a paper towel in the kitchen sink, before wiping it across Enjolras' face, as the child had managed to get applesauce all over it. Enjolras gave a small whine, as the towel made contact with his skin. Combeferre kissed his cheek, before turning to Courfeyrac,

"I'd better head out." He said, Courfeyrac nodding,

"Were good here, right Juli?" He assured Combefere, Enjolras nodding, despite having no idea of what was actually going on. Combeferre gave the 3-year-old a tight hug, giving Courfeyrac one of the same, before heading out the door. Only a few seconds after Combeferre left, Enjolras began pouting.

"Want Ferre to stay." He voiced, Courfeyrac ruffling his hair,

"I know, so do I. We'll be just fine on our own though. It's about time for us to head out to the store." Courfeyrac said, grabbing the list Combeferre and him had made yesterday and pinned on the refrigerator with a magnet. He lifted Enjolras up, as Enjolras didn't currently have any shoes, and began searching for his bag. He finally found it, and slung the strap over one arm, heading out the door, still carrying Enjolras. He was faced with a problem Grantaire had faced the day before, once he got outside. He didn't have a carseat for Enjolras. Oh well. He put Enjolras in one of the back seats for the time being, and drove down further into town. He finally stopped at the store they usually got groceries and clothes and such from.

He carried Enjolras in the store, looking at the shopping list. Enjolras, on his part, was generally well-behaved in public, much to Courfeyrac's relief. He managed to find all of the items on the list, and bought them in a hurry, leaving quickly. Well, that only took four hours. Enjolras was beginning to become discontented, as they waited to cross the parking lot, and Courfeyrac had to constantly grab onto Enjolras, to prevent the young boy from walking off. A few people gave him amused looks, and Courfeyrac did his best to ignore them. Finally they were able to head home, and they crossed the parking lot to reach their car. Courfeyrac installed the carseat in a way that looked okay (But honestly probably wasn't), strapping Enjolras in.

Soon, they were back at their apartment, in the parking lot. Courfeyrac had parked near the edge of it, and the road was only a few meters away from the car. Courfeyrac lifted Enjolras out of the car, going to the trunk to take a few bags. The Triumvirate each owned their own cars, since life was simpler that way. He looked up from the trunk, and his heart stopped beating for a second. Where was Enjolras?! Courfeyrac scanned the parking lot, panic fluttering in his stomach. _Where was Enjolras?!_ He then turned around, and his eyes widened, as fear struck his heart. There was Enjolras. Heading directly towards the road.

" _Julien_!" Courfeyrac screamed, Enjolras turning around to look at him, before running right into the road at top speed. Which was not very fast. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, and Courfeyrac rushed forward, reaching the road just as Enjolras made it safely across. A car then barreled past, right in the place Enjolras had previously been standing. Needless to say, Courfeyrac was livid. He looked both ways, before stalking across the road. He looked at Enjolras furiously.

"What were you _thinking_?!" He yelled, Enjolras wincing. Enjolras bit his lip, before opening his arms to reveal a small turtle nestled in them.

"She would be hurt by cars. So I took her out of road." Enjolras explained. Courfeyrac took a deep breath, clinging on to the last bits of his sanity, before responding.

"Put the turtle down. Turtles are dirty." He ordered, in a commanding tone he had never taken before. He didn't really like it very much either. Enjolras placed the turtle down in the grass, looking up at Courfeyrac with his wide blue eyes.

"Sowwy." Enjolras apologized, Courfeyrac sighing, and thrusting Enjolras into his arms, blinking back the tears in his eyes.

" _Oh my God, Julien…_ " He whispered, ignoring the small crowd the pair had managed to gather for the turtle stunt. He lifted Enjolras up, leaving the turtle in the grass, and carrying him carefully back across the street. They entered the apartment, Courfeyrac instantly ushering Enjolras to the bathroom, and lathering Enjolras' tiny hands with soap. Joly would have a fit if he'd heard that Enjolras had touched a wild turtle.

"You're still the same self-sacrificing Apollo, huh?" Courfeyrac murmured, drying Enjolras hands off with a towel. Enjolras frowned,

"I am not Pollo, I am Julien." He protested, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes.

"Alright, c'mon. Don't think you're off the hook for the turtle incident, though, Ferre will definitely hear about this." Courfeyrac warned, Enjolras simply blinking at him. Right. He wasn't talking to his best friend, who used words Courfeyrac didn't know existed on a daily basis. He was talking to a three-year-old, who most likely didn't understand anything he'd said. Courfeyrac sighed, leading Enjolras out of the bathroom.

"Suppose you're hungry." Courfeyrac said.

"I am not hungry." Enjolras replied, Courfeyrac pulling out the box of Cheez-Its he'd purchased. He opened it, taking one and holding it out to Enjolras, like one would hold out food to a skittish stray cat. Enjolras shook his head,

"No." He replied, Courfeyrac sighing. He then pulled out the applesauce-cups he'd gotten. Enjolras gave a small squeal, Courfeyrac taking out a spoon, and peeling the cover to the cup, before passing it to Enjolras.

"You're going to cause us so much trouble, aren't you?" Courfeyrac murmured, Enjolras grinning at him, a new layer of applesauce coating the skin around his mouth, and some dripping down onto his shirt.

"You're lucky you're cute." Courfeyrac said. Enjolras simply grinned at him, before holding up the applesauce cup, and promptly dropping it on the floor. Courfeyrac muttered a few curses under his breath, turning to Enjolras,

"Sit on the couch, and don't move," He ordered, beginning to clean up the spilled applesauce. Enjolras did as Combeferre said, thankfully, and began humming under his breath. He then paused, tilting his head at Courfeyrac.

"Fey, why did other people not take the turtle to save her?" Enjolras asked, kicking his legs against the couch. Courfeyrac gave him a smile,

"Because not everyone has what it takes to be a Julien, Julien."

…..

The front door opened, and Combeferre rushed in, instantly greeted by Enjolras running up and hugging him. Combeferre grinned,

"I have returned," He announced to Courfeyrac, who was sitting on the floor, having been helping Enjolras build a barricade with the toy blocks he had gotten. Courfeyrac wasn't sure why they were building a barricade, but Enjolras had insisted, so Courfeyrac had just shrugged and followed along.

"And so you have," Courfeyrac replied.

"How'd it go?" Combeferre asked, Courfeyrac smiling.

"Oh, pretty well. Julien did run across a busy road to rescue a turtle though."

"He did _WHAT?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story, my father's actually gone into the middle of the road to rescue turtles before. Once he rescued a snapping turtle, which kept trying to bite him. Running into the middle of the road for a turtle is not a recommended activity, however.
> 
> Feel free to give me requests or ideas for things a de-aged Enjolras could do.


	6. In which a deer is spotted, a crown made, and a poem created

“Alright, investigation team on figuring out what the heck happened with Enjolras! First meeting!” Eponine exclaimed. Jehan frowned,

“Why am I on this again?” He asked softly, staring at Eponine, Gavroche, and Azelma, who were sitting on the other side of the pavilion table. They were currently all meeting in the park, Gavroche keeping everything confidential by chasing away any stranger who dared approach the four.

“You have a few connections from your Montparnasse days, right?” Eponine asked him. Jehan shrugged,

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” He replied, twirling a strand of loose hair nervously in his hand.

“Then congratulations, you’re part of the team,” Azelma said sarcastically.

“Why isn’t Montparnasse here himself?” Jehan asked. 

“He doesn’t really want to, and I don’t know where he is,” Eponine answered with a shrug. Jehan tilted his head,

“He is your boyfriend, shouldn’t you _know_ where he is?” Jehan questioned, Eponine shrugging once more.

“Anyway, let’s get down to business!” Gavroche declared, Eponine nodding.

“Alrighty, what do we know so far?” She asked, Azelma taking out a notebook.

“He most likely had something slipped to him by someone who holds a grudge against him.” Azelma read, Gavroche sighing,

“This is impossible! Like, 90 or so people hold grudges against him!” He exclaimed.

“Then we’ll track down each and every one of them,” Eponine vowed, Gavroche grinning,

“Like detectives!” He grinned. 

“Alright, Azelma, you’re on notes, we need a list of people who don’t like him,” Eponine demanded, Azelma nodding, and taking a pencil out of nowhere, hand at the ready.

“Nearly every Senator there is.” Jehan offered, Azelma scribbling that down. Gavroche scrunched his nose in thought,

“Maybe some of the Patron Minnette. They _really_ don’t like im’, specially’ after he said street gangs should be discouraged.” Gavroche reported. Eponine nodded,

“It’s a possibility, you got that down Azelma?” She questioned. Azelma nodded, and the next few minutes were spent trading names back and forth, each more unlikely than the next.

“Okay,” Eponine finally declared, “We’re getting nowhere, and don’t you have Enjolras soon, Jehan?” Jehan glanced at his watch,

“Oh, yeah, I’d better head home.” He said, Eponine nodded,

“We’ll start going through the suspects, in the meanwhile. Azelma will call you if we find anything important.” Eponine directed, Jehan nodding. Jehan smiled, giving Gavroche and Azelma a fist-bump, and Eponine a hug, before departing. The names swirled in his head. Why would anyone wish to hurt another human being? Jehan had never understood that. He was lost in his thoughts, as he often was, as he crossed the street, approaching his house. 

He had purchased a tiny house two years ago, which he thought was absolutely lovely. It was painted a cheery yellow and had a cottage-like appearance. He had hung flower boxes in the window, and there was a beautiful stream trickling a few meters away from the house. The forest was lush and buzzing behind it. Jehan loved it. He made his way inside, sitting down at his kitchen table, and picking up a sheet of paper, frowning at it.

A sudden knock on the door startled him, and he stood up, nearly banging his legs against the table as he did so,

“Coming!” He called, making his way to the front door. He opened it, sure enough, greeted by Combeferre and Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac holding Enjolras hand, and Combeferre handing Jehan a large bag.

“We're here to drop off the child!” Courfeyrac said in a sing-song voice. Jehan smiled and nodded, 

“Come in,” He invited, standing aside so his three friends could enter the small living room of his house. 

“Alright,” Combeferre began, getting right down to business. “He had everything he needs in this bag… Courfeyrac will be around to pick him up at 3. He may try to fall asleep at some point, but don’t let him, we’re trying to save the sleeping for night. He only eats applesauce, but feel free to try him with something else, keep him away from roads, or any other place he could injure himself heroically-” Courfeyrac cut into Combeferre,

“In short, don’t kill the child.” He concluded, Jehan giving a warm laugh,

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” He reassured them. Combeferre nodded, hugging Enjolras, Courfeyrac doing the same.

“Oh, and he has slight attachment issues, but those shouldn’t be a problem. Bye.” Combeferre said, he and Courfeyrac gone before Jehan could say another word. Jehan blinked,

“Well, I suppose that’s that,” he said, Enjolras’ eyes widening.

“Where are they going?!” Enjolras squeaked. Jehan bent down meeting the child’s eyes,

“They’re going to work.” He explained, Enjolras pouting,

"Go with them?” He asked hopefully, Jehan shaking his head,

“No, Julien,” He murmured, tears filling Enjolras' eyes. Jehan could feel tears watering in his own eyes at the child’s panic. Maybe he really should be “manning up” like Bahorel always told him to… Acting like a supposed “man” had never been one of Jehan’s strong suits, though. Jehan picked up Enjolras, meeting the blue eyes of the once fearless leader, and holding Enjolras tightly to his chest. Jehan always seemed to have a calming effect on other people. Courfeyrac had called it “magic”, and Feuilly had called it “Jehan being Jehan.” Enjolras sniffled, now done freaking out, apparently. Jehan let him down on the ground, letting him explore the house, with Jehan closely following him of course.

“Hm, you want to go outside,” Jehan suggested, after Enjolras had been poking around the corners for about an hour. Jehan’s house honestly wasn’t that big, but Enjolras seemed to find it immensely interesting.

“Outside?” Enjolras questioned, Jehan nodding in confirmation. “Okay.” Enjolras decided, Jehan taking Enjolras hand. He would have to keep an extra close eye on Enjolras, because of the stream. Combeferre and Courfeyrac would kill him if he let their best friend drown. Enjolras seemed just as fascinated with the outdoors of Jehan’s house as Jehan had first been, running around in the flower field like some sort of person in one of those strange commercials, though obviously a lot less gracefully. He peeked curiously at the stream, Jehan smiling, and letting Enjolras dip his fingers gently into the water.

“It is cold!” Enjolras shouted, pulling his hand back. Jehan burst out laughing. 

“Fishie!” Enjolras suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a fish, which darted through the stream at top speed.

“Mhm, that right there’s a minnow. He probably lives at the lake nearby, and ended up in the stream,” Jehan explained. Enjolras frowned,

“I think it is a girl.” He claimed, Jehan raising his brow,

“And, why is that?” he asked, Enjolras smiling,

“Cause’ everyone calls stuff boys, so it is a girl,” He explained. Jehan burst out laughing again. Enjolras looked offended from being laughed at. Jehan finally stopped shaking his head,

“Of course you were advocating for women's representation at three,” He murmured, Enjolras grinned,

“Maman always says that girls need rep… Rep-pre… Repre…” He struggled to pronounce the word,

“Representation,” Jehan finished for him, Enjolras nodding,

“Yes!” He exclaimed, waving at the minnow, “Goodbye fishie.” He said as it swam off. Jehan turned his head towards the edge of the woods, and froze,

“Enjolras, be very still, and quiet,” Jehan said, pulling Enjolras to his side, and pointing in front of him. A doe had brought her young fawn out to the stream, and was drinking, whilst the fawn skipped around at her feet, occasionally nibbling on a branch, or mimicking their mother. Enjolras went completely silent, his eyes locking with Jehan’s, sparkling with utter adoration. After about a minute, the doe gently nudged the fawn, ushering it on and out of sight.

“Wow!” Enjolras exclaimed, Jehan smiling widely,

“Yeah, the fawn’s definitely out of season,” Jehan said, rather in touch with the patterns of animals around him. He didn’t have the heart to tell Enjolras that it probably wouldn’t make it through the first snow. The death of any creature greatly saddened Jehan. He remembered one time crying over a dead sparrow and her baby, and burying them afterward. The gravestone, adorned with flowers, still stood.

“I like deers.” Enjolras declared.

“Deer,” Jehan gently corrected him, Enjolras not paying attention, instead focused on the flowers in front of him.

“We can pick a few to make flower crowns,” Jehan suggested, Enjolras squealing and nodding. Jehan stood over him, instructing him on how to gently remove the flowers from the ground. Once they had a variety of different colored flowers, Jehan showed Enjolras how to braid them together. In the end, Jehan had a few beautiful flower crowns, and Enjolras had a few of what looked more like flower mops then anything. He was still very proud, to say the least. 

“Probably about time to go inside. Have some applesauce?” Jehan offered, Enjolras nodding enthusiastically. Jehan picked up the flower crowns, about to lay them down on stones to stay, but Enjolras stopped him.

“Can I give one ta’ Ferre and Courf?” He asked, Jehan nodding,

“Of course, Julien,” He replied, grabbing two of the crowns and taking them with him. He managed to get Enjolras to eat a cup of applesauce, and ate a sandwich himself, checking his watch. 1:00 pm. Two more hours. Enjolras began to blink slowly, appearing to drift off to sleep. Jehan shook him lightly, Enjolras whining,

“I am tired, Han.” He complained, Jehan ruffling his hair.

“I know, but Combeferre said to keep you awake.” He said. Enjolras frowned, forcing his eyes to stay open.

“C’mere, I have a good poetry book for kids,” Jehan said, picking up Enjolras, and taking a large book off of his bookshelf. He sat down on the couch, Enjolras in his lap, and began to read out loud. Enjolras seemed to enjoy it. It had beautiful intriguing illustrations, and Enjolras would occasionally point to a word and read it, apparently having been taught by Combeferre how to read some. And then, there was a knock on the door. Jehan collected Enjolras things, quickly placing them in his bag, before he answered the door, balancing the child on his hip. Courfeyrac was standing there, smiling. Enjolras smiled as well, reaching his arms out towards Courfeyrac. Jehan transferred the boy to him, Enjolras looking up excitedly at Courfeyrac.

“Courf, Courf, there was deers and fishies,” Enjolras exclaimed, Courfeyrac giving Jehan an amused look,

“Sounds like you had fun,” He said, kissing Enjolras’ cheek, and giving Jehan a warm look,

“Thank you so much for helping out with him,” Courfeyrac said, Jehan grinning,

“Oh, it was no problem, I quite enjoyed it, actually. We had fun, right Julien?” He asked, Enjolras bobbed his head,

“Right!” He repeated, pausing for a second, “Crowns,” He told Jehan, Jehan nodding, and taking out the flower crows they had selected for Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

“This one’s for you,” Jehan said, giving Courfeyrac the yellow one, “And the blue and purple one is Combeferre’s.” Courfeyrac grinned, ruffling Enjolras hair,

“You certainly were busy,” He remarked, “Combeferre will love his,” Enjolras grinned, leaning forward in Courfeyrac’s arms, and kissing Jehan’s cheek.

“Thank you, Han.” He said, Jehan smiling,

“You’re welcome, Julien.” He replied, as Courfeyrac turned around after Jehan handed him the bag, heading out to his car. Jehan walked into his house, exhaling slowly. The day had honestly been a lot of fun to him. New words were bursting inside of him, threatening to spill, and Jehan made his way to his table, sitting down, and glancing over the paper he had been looking at previously. No. Its thoughts didn’t convey his new emotions. He crossed them out with a charcoal stick that was laying beside the paper, and new words were etched onto it. 

**Tiny hands and tiny fingers, yet they know their path from birth**

**Never must they question, what they must do**

**Sent from High, sent from the world**

**They carry the weight of many**

**Tiny hands and tiny fingers, a loved one's blessing**

**And the world’s fear**

**For they are not ready for them**

**Tiny hands and tiny fingers, will someday do great things**

**And will die for those that doubt them**

**Their heart never as small, as their tiny hands and fingers**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the quality of the poem, I write it in like, two minutes, XD! Anyways, hello, everyone!
> 
> It always makes me sad to see an out-of-season fawn :( , they usually don't make it through winter. Jehan's always seemed like somebody who would get sad over it too.
> 
> Oh, and now you have your "Offical Investigation Squad," XD! Thank you for reading, and please review.


	7. In which Bahorel is not good with kids, Grantaire is, and there's another investigation meeting

**From, Grantaire:** _do not give the child to bahorel_

**To, Grantaire:** _And who else would I give him to?_

**From, Grantaire:** _idk even marius would be better then bahorel_

**To, Grantaire:** _I'm going to give Bahorel a chance._

**From, Grantaire:** _idiot_

Combeferre shut his phone, not very pleased at being called an idiot. Bahorel would be fine… Right? His phone let out a small beep, Combeferre seeing a new text.

**From, Feuilly:** _Do not give the child to Bahorel._

Combeferre sighed, texting him back.

**To, Feuilly:** _I've been over this with R already._

**From, Feuilly:** _Mhm. I'm Bahorel's boyfriend, and I can tell you from experience that entrusting a child to Bahorel is not a good idea._

**To, Feuilly:** _Why is that?_

**From Feuilly:** _A, it's Bahorel, B, if you knew what happened to his fish, you'd agree with me._

"Ferre, I think we're making progress!" Courfeyrac's excited voice came from the living room, and Combeferre closed his phone once more, walking over to Courfeyrac, who was at the table with Enjolras. They were trying to convince Enjolras to eat something other then applesauce. Their current "progress" was the fact that he didn't knock the slice of bread off the table.

Combeferre walked over, kissing Enjolras' head, and giving an amused smile at the sour look on Enjolras' face as he eyed the slice of bread.

"Are you going to eat it?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras glaring at him,

"No." He replied, crossing his arms. Combeferre nudged him gently,

"C'mon Julien, you need to eat something." Combeferre encouraged.

"Applesauce?" Enjolras asked hopefully. Combeferre shook his head,

"You need something _other_ then applesauce, Julien." He told him, Enjolras grabbing the bread, and taking a single bite. Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged an overjoyed look.

"Applesauce?" Enjolras asked again, Courfeyrac grinning,

"Yeah, you can have applesauce now." He said, unpeeling an applesauce cup. Enjolras happily ate it, Combeferre wiping his face off gently once he was done. Enjolras let out a loud whine, tugging away. Combeferre was finally successful with wiping the remnants of applesauce off his face, and picked him up from his chair, placing him down. Enjolras began to build yet another barricade with blocks, and Courfeyrac stood up,

"I've gotta head out," He said, kissing Combeferre's cheek. Combeferre kissed his cheek back, Courfeyrac pausing, and giving him an indiscernible look, before hugging Enjolras, grabbing his bag, and rushing out the door.

"Alright, Julien, we have a little while before I need to take you to Bahorel, c'mere, let's work on your reading." Combeferre said, opening one of his old children's books, which he had taken out for Enjolras. He had started to try and teach Enjolras and Courfeyrac to read at two, and had no progress with Courfeyrac at all, but Enjolras had taken to it much quicker then most kids his age, and Combeferre had always loved practicing with him, and still did.

"Fishie," Enjolras stated, pointing to the illustration of a fish on the page they were on. Combeferre smiled, gently reading to Enjolras, and letting him read a few words. The alarm on his phone beeped, and he stood up, gathering Enjolras' various things from around the house, and putting them in a bag, before heading out the door.

Bahorel and Feuilly lived close to Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras, in a house. It was a very small, run-down one, granted, but it was still a house. Feuilly was nowhere in sight, as Combeferre opened the door, already off on one of his jobs, most likely, but Bahorel was sitting on the sofa. Combeferre set Enjolras down, Bahorel coming over to greet him. Combeferre gave him a rather long list of instructions, and hesitantly hugged Enjolras goodbye, turning to Bahorel.

"Please keep him safe," He said. Bahorel nodded,

"I'll… Try," He said, Combeferre leaving. Bahorel stared down at Enjolras, not entirely sure what to do with a child. Enjolras blinked at him,

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I'm Bahorel," Bahorel continued to awkwardly stare at the child. He glanced at the bag Combeferre had given him. Enjolras gave him a nod, before going out the front door.

"Bye-bye," He said. Now, Bahorel hadn't the slightest idea what to do with a child, but he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to let them leave the house one their own, so he dragged Enjolras back in. Enjolras scowled at him, Bahorel just placing him on the floor in response. Enjolras made a dash for the door again, and Bahorel snatched him up, taking him to the couch, and pinning him down. And they stayed like that for three hours. Even as Enjolras began to fuss, and squirm, Bahorel refused to get off of him. Grantaire finally burst in, probably to make sure Bahorel hasn't murdered Enjolras (Or the other way around), instantly running over to Bahorel.

"Bahorel, get off of him!" Grantaire exclaimed, Bahorel shaking his head,

"He keeps trying to run when I do!" He protested. Grantaire sighed,

"How long have you had him like that?" He questioned. Bahorel shrugged,

"The whole time?" He answered. Grantaire cursed under his breath,

" _The whole freaking time._ " He muttered, pushing Bahorel off of Enjolras. Enjolras instantly went over to Grantaire, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's legs.

"Taire," He murmured, Grantaire picking him up, and shooting Bahorel a glare.

"You can't just pin a kid down, Bahorel. He needs to be able to move, and if he keeps trying to go outside, lock your freaking door, he can't unlock things yet!" Grantaire exclaimed, cradling Enjolras to his chest. Bahorel frowned, looking as if he wanted to talk back, but not saying anything. Grantaire huffed, setting Enjolras down, and taking the applesauce cups out of the bag, also taking a spoon from the kitchen of the house, of which he was well acquainted, and giving it to Enjolras.

"Listen, I know it's not your fault, but how about I take over all of Tuesday," Grantaire suggested, Bahorel letting out a sigh of relief,

"Thank you," He said, pausing in thought, "When'd you get so good with children, anyways?" He inquired.

"I'm not, really. I just care about this particular one," Grantaire said, ruffling Enjolras hair. Enjolras smiled at him, looking at Bahorel,

"Strong," He observed, Grantaire nodding,

"Yes, Bahorel's very strong." He said. Grantaire lifted Enjolras up, taking the bag, and giving Bahorel a nod, before leaving. He pulled out his phone, before he started his car.

**To, Combeferre:** _im taking enj from bahorels bahorel does not know how to watch a child_

**From, Combeferre:** _Oh good God._

Grantaire turned off his phone, driving down to his apartment, and taking Enjolras into the living room, locking all of the doors around him, preventing Enjolras from fully exploring the apartment. Enjolras gave Grantaire a curious look, Grantaire setting the bag down in the floor,

"I have poisonous paint." He explained

"Paint," Enjolras replied, taking the toy blocks from the bag, and stacking them on Grantaire's coffee table. "I am building a barricade." He reported, Grantaire laughing,

"Why not build a castle or something?" He suggested. Enjolras shook his head,

"No." He responded. "Help?" He asked, Grantaire beginning to stack the blocks on top of each other beside him. "Good, and then it falls." Enjolras said, sending the blocks to the ground with a sweep of his arm. Grantaire laughed, giving Enjolras a tight hug, and briefly wishing that Big-Apollo could like him like Mini-Apollo did.

…..

"Investigation team on figuring out what the heck happened with Enjolras! Meeting two!" Eponine announced, Gavroche raising his hand,

"Yes, Gavroche?" She asked, pointing to him,

"Can not have a meeting in the library next time, it's too… Confinin'." Gavroche voiced, Azelma giving a nod of agreement. Eponine shrugged,

"Sure," She said, "Azelma, do we have any progress?" Azelma stared at the investigation journal,

"No, nothing." She reported. Gavroche stood up,

"I've been doing a lotta' snoopin', and ain't found nothin'." He muttered, Jehan nodded,

"Yeah, I didn't find anything either." He said. Eponine sighed,

"Just a bunch of dead ends, then. I guess we need to add to the suspect list," Eponine leaned over Azelma's shoulder frowning. Gavroche sighed,

"Is de-agin' even possible?" He asked, Jehan shrugging,

"I guess so. Maybe we should look into rich people. They're more likely to have the resources to pull something like this." He suggested. Eponine nodded,

"Good idea," She praised, and they carried on the meeting. Just another bunch of dead ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter, but I was was tired XP.


	8. In which squirrels are stupid, and painting is done

"Why is the sky blue?" Enjolras asked suddenly. Courfeyrac groaned. That was the fourth random question Enjolras had asked him on the car ride so far. And they were only 5 minutes into it.

"I don't know, look it up," Courfeyrac replied, Enjolras frowning,

"Up is the roof," He said, pointing at the car roof.

"I-You, never mind," Courfeyrac replied, swerving the car to avoid a squirrel.

"Squirrel should not be in road," Enjolras declared, leaning sideways in the car seat to catch a glimpse of it. Courfeyrac nodded,

"No, it shouldn't, but squirrels are stupid." Courfeyrac confirmed.

"Squirrels are stupid," Enjolras repeated with a smile. Courfeyrac sighed,

"Great, I'm a bad role model already," He murmured, pulling into the parking lot of Grantaire's apartment. He stopped the car, stepping out, and taking Enjolras out of his carseat.

"Hold my hand," Courfeyrac said, not wanting a repeat of the Turtle Incident. Enjolras did as he was told, and Courfeyrac climbed up a few flights of stairs with him, once they were inside, knocking on Grantaire's door. Grantaire answered it, a smile spreading across his face when he saw Enjolras.

"Hey, dropping him off?" He asked, Courfeyrac nodding,

"It is Wednesday," He pointed out, "Is the poisonous paint situation sorted out?" He inquired, Grantaire bobbing his head,

"Yep, room with the paint's locked off," He informed.

"Okay," Courfeyrac passed him the bag, "You know the drill, don't kill the child," He said. Grantaire smiled, hoisting Enjolras into his arms.

"I won't. Have fun teaching the eye-rollers," Grantaire joked, Courfyerac groaning,

"I'm sure I won't," He muttered, turning around and leaving.

"I was a mess in middle school." Grantaire recalled with a smile to Enjolras, who was struggling down. He set Enjolras on the ground, Enjolras smiling,

"Mess, mess, mess," He repeated, glancing at the walls, "Why do walls have color on it?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side in a rather adorable manner. He was referring to the paint splatters that coated the wall.

"Because I'm an artist, and I get paint everywhere," He explained, Enjolras already having moved on to the next thing, which was examining the curtains.

"Let me tell you, Apollo, never once did I imagine bonding with you this way," Grantaire commented. Enjolras just blinked at him, and Grantaire felt a sudden longing for older Enjolras. Even if older Enjolras did seem to hate him…

"I am not Pollo, I am Julien," Enjolras argued, giving the curtain a tug, and pulling it down.

"Julien!" Grantaire scolded, taking the curtain from the ground, and putting it back up. Enjolras linked his tiny, innocent blue eyes with Grantaire's. Grantaire's heart clenched. No matter what age Enjolras was, Grantaire could never resist Apollo's eyes.

"It falleded," Enjolras reported, Grantaire rolling his eyes,

"Yes it 'falleded,' you need to be gentle with it," Grantaire said. Now more then ever, he missed the older Enjolras.

….

_Grantaire had been in the Musain, spending his time doing something of the utmost importance. A.K.A, staring at Enjolras, who was standing in the corner with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. The French flag hung proudly above them, and a small gust of wind from the window Marius had opened sent the flag dipping down slightly, to gently stroke Enjolras curls. How Grantaire had wished he were that French flag, at that moment. Enjolras had tugged at it, trying to get it out of his face, and had somehow sent the flag tumbling down, to rest entirely over his face, covering it from everyone watching. Everyone in the Musain had burst into laughter._

_"Honestly, Enjolras," Courfeyrac had said with a laugh and a shake of his head. Enjolras made no move to remove it._

_"It fell," He simply said, his face still hidden behind the red, white, and blue cloth._

_"Yes, it fell, you need to be more gentle, Enjolras," Combeferre had chimed in, Bahorel barking a laugh from the opposite corner of the Musain,_

_"You planning on coming out there, Captain?" Bahorel had joked, Enjolras, much to Grantaire's surprise, responding with,_

_"No thank you, the world is better under here. More patriotic," That had sent the entire Musain into fits of laughter again, Grantaire especially._

….

Grantaire sighed. He'd do his best to take care of Mini-Apollo for now, until the "Investigation Team" figured something out. He had to admit, he'd been slightly skeptical when Combeferre had told him who was on the Investigation Team, but he knew that Eponine, Azelma, and Gavroche were far too sneaky for their own goods, a skill that would actually come in handy in this situation. And Jehan was good moral support.

"Hey, Juli, time for lunch," Grantaire said, Enjolras scowling. Grantaire just smirked, picking him up, and setting him down on the extra chair he had brought to his tiny dining table for Enjolras' use.

"Not hungry, Taire', Enjolras murmured, Grantaire pulling out a slice of bread, and an applesauce cup.

"Too bad, you're eating anyway, kiddo." He pressed, taking the bread, and giving it to Enjolras, who was giving the apple sauce a hopeful look. Grantaire ruffled his blonde curls,

"Eat the bread, then you can have applesauce," Grantaire tried, aware that he was literally bargaining with a three-year-old. He had gotten a very excited text from Courfeyrac the other day, telling him about the bread's success, and Grantaire was determined to turn the victory into a habit. Enjolras glared at him, and took a small bite of bread, swallowing.

"Happy?" He asked, in an expression that mirrored one of the one's Enjolras always gave Grantaire so much that Grantaire laughed.

"Take another bite," Grantaire prompted, Enjolras taking one more. Grantaire nodded, opening the applesauce cup, and handing Enjolras the spoon, which he was sure he would regret later due to the inevitable mess it would cause. He phone let out a beep, and he picked it up, seeing a new text from Bahorel.

 **From, Bahorel:** wanna go out drinking with me?

 **To, Bahorel:** _ive got mini apollo rn_

 **From, Bahorel:** _youve been drinking a little less then usual._

 **To, Bahorel:** _ive been trying_

Grantaire closed his phone, taking a paper towel from his kitchen, and approaching Enjolras, whose face was covered in applesauce.

"No…" Enjolras whined, pulling away, "Don't like," He protested, as Grantaire wiped his face down. Grantaire sighed,

"You have problems, kid, you know that?" He inquired, pointing at him. "And you're too cute to be legal," He murmured, picking Enjolras up, and letting him down after a few seconds.

"Julien, you want to paint?" Grantaire offered, tossing the empty applesauce cup and remainders of bread into the trash can in the kitchen.

"Paint?" Enjolras questioned curiously, from where he was building another freaking barricade with those blocks he seemed to have with him everywhere.

"Yeah," Grantaire answered, Enjolras nodding, and knocking over his barricade.

"Okay!" He exclaimed, Grantaire taking a few pieces of paper, and putting them on the kitchen counter, which was clear, other than the cups of non-poisonous children's paint. There were two chairs, and Grantaire pulled Enjolras up into one, pushing the cups of paint forward, and giving him a paper.

"I figured finger-painting would be the easiest," Grantaire said, though he knew Enjolras couldn't understand, taking the color red, putting Enjolras tiny hand into his, and trying to dip it into it.

"No!" Enjolras yelled, pulling backward. Grantaire blinked,

"What?" He inquired. Enjolras gave him a teary-eyes look,

" _No, no, no, no, no, no._ " He whispered, blinking, and seeming to zone out. Grantaire tried to put his hand in again, Enjolras literally screaming that time around. Well, okay. He picked up the paint brush from the counter, giving that to Enjolras instead, and carefully supervising him. Despite his watchings, they both ended up a paint covered mess at the end. Enjolras had turned his paper into a jumbled mess of redness.

"What's this?" Grantaire asked, Enjolras grinning,

"Revolution," He replied proudly, pronouncing the word perfectly, like he had said it a million times before. Knowing Enjolras, the three-year-old probably had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, school started back up again, and even though I do online school, it's still time consuming. I've been using most of my spare time to write One Shots for this fandom. There will be more chapters soon!
> 
> Oh, and I've read a lot of fics here where Bahorel or someone calls Enjy, "Chief." There's nothing wrong with this, but I'm Native American, and I have a literal Chief (Who led us through the long struggle for Federal Recognition, because apparently, when white people burned your records in the past, you're not "Native" enough for your starving and penniless children to be eligible for freaking scholarships and basic access to - And, I'm ranting again...). Anyways, it's just awkward for me, so I switched "Chief" to "Captain."
> 
> So, yeah, XD! Hope you enjoyed reading, and please review.


	9. In which an attack happens, and Montparnasse is worse than anyone anticipated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .

"And, why can't we step on the cracks?" Courfeyrac asked, Enjolras giving him a horrified look.

"Cracks are bad," He intelligently replied, jumping over another sidewalk crack. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, before grinning,

"So, wanna make it a game?" He asked, Enjolras blinking,

"Okay," He responded. Courfeyrac looked down at the sidewalk, jumping over a crack, Enjolras hopping over it as well,

"First one to step on a crack loses," Courfeyrac proposed. Enjolras nodded,

"You on!" He said with a giggle. Courfeyrac and Enjolras continued this as they walked down the street, They were headed to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta's house, which was within walking distance of their own apartment. It was a sunny day, so Courfeyrac had decided to take advantage of that, and walk down, instead of drive. Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras, who was still jumping over the cracks on the sidewalk, and purposefully "missed" a jump. Enjolras let out a delighted squeal.

"I win, Courf!" He exclaimed. Courfeyrac nodded,

"And so you do, my little friend," He said, affectionately ruffling Enjolras hair. Up ahead, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta's house came into view. Courfeyrac gave Enjolras one of his few serious looks,

"Now, I know you've never seen Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta before, do you promise to be good for them?" Courfeyrac asked. Enjolras blinked,

"Sure," He said, taking Courfeyrac's hand, as they neared the front doorstep of the house. Courfeyrac tapped the door three names, and a loud,

" _Who is it?!_ " From Bossuet answered him.

"It's Courf and Enj!" Courfeyrac called back, Bossuet opening the door, and beaming,

"Oh good, come in," He said, stepping aside so Courfeyrac and Enjolras could enter. Courfeyrac smiled, handing him the bag he had been carrying for Enjolras, and watching amusedly as Enjolras narrowed his eyes at Bossuet.

"Bossuet? Are they here?" Came Musichetta's voice from somewhere up the stairs.

"Mhm!" Bossuet called back, Musichetta and Joly coming downstairs to greet Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

"Okay, so here's detailed notes and stuff from Ferre," Courfeyrac said, passing multiple sheets of paper to Joly. Courfeyrac pointed at the bag,

"That has everything he needs," He gave Enjolras head a small tap, "You be good, now," Courfeyrac said, giving a nod to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, before walking out. Enjolras blinked at them, his eyes still narrowed,

"Who are you?" He asked, Musichetta giving him a soft smile,

"I'm Musichetta, and this is Bossuet," She pointed at Bossuet, who waved, "And Joly," She motioned towards Joly, who also waved. Enjolras sat down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest,

"Musi, Joly, and Bo," He attempted to repeat. Musichetta let out a small laugh, Enjolras scowling,

"Want Ferre, or Courf, or Taire, or Han," Enjolras said, giving the three adults a tearful look.

"It's alright," Musichetta reassured him, "You'll see them soon." Enjolras seemed to cheer up slightly at that, and stood up, walking around the house to investigate. Joly followed him carefully, muttering something about " _child safety hazards_ " under his breath. After a few minutes, Enjolras seemed satisfied with his surroundings, and sat down on the floor, crawling over to Joly, who had sat down on the couch's, side, and gripping the bag he was still holding.

"What?" Joly enquired, Enjolras frowning,

"Blocks, please," He requested, Joly giving him a wide-eyed look.

"No… Some blocks have poisonous paint!" He recalled. Musichetta rolled her eyes,

"I'm sure the blocks are fine, Joly. Do you think Combeferre and Courfeyrac would let him have them if they weren't?" She said, Joly sighing,

"You never know!" He did consent, however, and took the toy blocks out of the bag, setting them down on the floor. Enjolras began building… Something, a look of very familiar concentration gracing his features.

"Ack!" Bossuet wandered into the room, tripping as he came through the door, and falling onto the blocks, destroying whatever Enjolras had been working on. Musichetta briefly looked up from her position on the couch to see if Enjolras was alright, but didn't bother to look at Bossuet. He always managed to survive, somehow, so a fall onto a pile of blocks, no matter how sharp the ends were, was no big deal. Enjolras was giving Bossuet a horrified look, and he had gone entirely quiet, his humming from earlier (That sounded suspiciously like the national anthem…) ceased. Bossuet gave Enjolras a confused look, and Enjolras suddenly screamed, giving the collapsed blocks a look of utter despair. He picked up one block, and threw it at the couch, Bossuet giving Musichetta a terrified look, and Joly jumping to his feet,

"What's wrong?! Is someone sick?! Or hurt?! Or _dying_?!" He exclaimed, Musichetta instantly intervening into the situation, and holding Enjolras tightly to her chest. Enjolras calmed down after a few minutes, and Musichetta set him back down on the floor.

"We don't throw blocks," She said firmly, Enjolras giving her an earnest look,

"Okay," He said in turn. Bossuet frowned,

"What was that about?" He asked.

"You fell on his blocks," Musichetta said.

"So, that's not enough to get someone _that_ worked up about it!" Bossuet protested,

"He's three. That's more than enough to get him worked up. And he's Enjolras," Joly pointed out from his spot on the couch, "I wonder if he's met all of his developmental milestones yet…" Joly murmured, Musichetta crossing her arms,

"You are not using the child as an experiment," She said. Joly groaned,

"I'm just curious!" He complained.

"No," Musichetta affirmed, "Why don't we go somewhere?" She suggested.

"Like, out of the house?" Joly incredulously asked. Musichetta nodded. Joly shook his head,

"Absolutely not!" Joly exclaimed, "He could get hurt! And knowing Enjolras' _adult_ immune system, I shudder to think of what his three-year-old one would be like." Musichetta smirked,

"He'll be fine, Jol, he'll be with us. I don't plan to drop him off in the surgical room of a hospital and leave or anything," She picked Enjolras up, "Besides, look, he's squirming, and our yard isn't really suitable for a three-year-old to play in. We could just go to the park, or something," She suggested.

"I think it sounds like an okay idea!" Bossuet came in, Joly sighing,

"Fine," He decided, "It seems I've been outvoted…" Musichetta smiled, and looked at Enjolras, who was still in her arms,

"You want to go to the park?" She asked.

"Park!" Enjolras said excitedly, clapping his hands together, his bright blue eyes shining. Bossuet stood up,

"Let me grab my scarf," He said, "It's been getting chillier by the day, damn autumn." Joly gave Bossuet a scolding look,

"Bossuet, there are young ears here!" He exclaimed. Bossuet just shrugged in response, wandering off to find the scarf he'd been talking about, and miraculously only tripping twice on his way out of the room. Joly turned to Musichetta and Enjolras,

"He'll need a jacket, and gloves… And-" He started, Musichetta cutting him off,

"He'll be alright, Joly," She said calmly, Enjolras giving Joly a squeal of agreement. Joly walked off, probably to find a jacket. About five minutes later, the three and the toddler had set outside, and were walking down the sidewalk, Musichetta still carrying the three-year-old, as Joly wasn't strong enough to fully support another beings weight on a quarter of a mile walk, and there was no way in hell Bossuet was going to hold a small child. The trees around them were proudly wearing their fall colors of orange, red, and yellow, the air was crisp, and the sun was shining, a few clouds blocking some of it's glow. About 10 minutes later, the group arrived at the park. Musichetta let Enjolras down, and found a place to sit on a bench, Joly and Bossuet sitting next to her, while Enjolras suspiciously examined the playground equipment.

"Bossuet, stay far away from the equipment," Joly warned. Musichetta felt inclined to agree with her boyfriend. If Bossuet ended up near the equipment, well, let's just say the outcome wouldn't be pleasant. Not that she hasn't seen worse things, but still, when injury was avoidable, Musichetta would prefer to _avoid_ it, not encourage it.

Enjolras seemed to have declared the playground acceptable, and had climbed onto a platform. He was just sitting there. Why, Musichetta wasn't sure. She got the feeling the Enjolras was not entirely a normal child. Which made sense, because Enjolras had never been normal, ever since she'd first met him. There were no other people at the park, and the beautiful fall surroundings made Musichetta reminisce about certain times.

"Remind you two of-" Bossuet began, Joly cutting in,

"High school walks we would take, yeah," He said with a laugh. Musichetta smiled. High school had been both a good, and bad time for the three. They did get their relationship sorted out then, but that had come with it's own hardships. It was also when all of them had joined the Les Amis, though, so that definitely counted for something.

"What in God's name is he doing?" Bossuet asked, pointing to Enjolras, who had collected a pile of sticks, and was holding one out like a rifle, while hiding behind the play structure. Musichetta laughed, pulling out her phone, and snapping a picture,

"Courfeyrac will love this," She said, Joly giving a warm smile.

"He really is quite cute, isn't he?" He asked, Musichetta nodded,

"Definitely… Oh, he's going to be so petrified when the Investigation Team figures out how to get him back to normal," Musichetta said. The three lovers shared a small laugh, before Joly hesitantly asked,

"Do you think they'll be able to get him back to normal?" There was silence after that, until Bossuet steadily replied.

"I think Eponine, Gavroche, Azelma, and Jehan have definitely got it covered. Couldn't find a more brilliant team anywhere," He said. Joly gave a slight dip of his head, watching Enjolras scurry up the platforms, throwing sticks down on the ground, which was covered in mulch. Why people always seemed to do that to playgrounds, Musichetta hadn't the slightest idea. Enjolras collected the fallen sticks, and marched over to the three adults, setting the sticks down in Joly's lap.

"See?" He proudly declared. Joly's lips quirked into a smile,

"Yes, we see," He said, Enjolras giving a shriek of delight. What seemed to be a man entered the park. Musichetta couldn't really tell, because they had a mask over their face. She didn't question it, as people always seemed to be getting into weird styles and trends. She did begin to question it when the man walked towards them. Joly and Bossuet didn't seem to have noticed them.

"Joly, hold Enjolras," Musichetta ordered, Joly frowning in confusion, but doing as she asked. The figure approached them, and suddenly pulled a knife out of nowhere. It took all of Musichetta's willpower for her not to gasp.

" _Now…"_ The person said in a rough, distorted voice, " _Give me the kid, or pay the price."_ He ordered. Musichetta's pulse quickened, and she grabbed Bossuet's hand, both of them refusing to move. Musichetta didn't know what was going on, but she knew she would protect Enjolras at all costs.

" _One. Last. Warning,"_ The man whispered. Musichetta turned to Joly. There were no plans inside of her head. But she knew something had to be done. She gave Joly a look, and he seemed to understand, curling around Enjolras protectively, of whom had gone entirely silent, sensing that there was something wrong. Musichetta grabbed one of the sticks Enjolras had set down, and ran at the threat, using it against their knife. The person was obviously a talented fighter, as they skillfully held their ground. Musichetta didn't know how long a stick could last against a sword, and swallowed, waiting for the worst, as the knife swung towards the stick at full speed-

 _Crack!_ The figure suddenly fell to the ground, Bossuet standing behind them with another stick, that he had hit them over the head with. Musichetta let out a shaky breath, embracing Bossuet, before she examined the person, Bossuet removing the knife from their hands. Musichetta touched the mask, pulling it off, and gasping. Montparnasse. Eponine's boyfriend. Bossuet and Joly both had similar reactions to the revelation.

Joly was still clutching Enjolras tightly, and Enjolras was thankfully blissfully ignorant of the situation that had just taken place. Musichetta look at her cellphone, which was still sitting on the bench,

"Should I call the police?" She hesitantly asked, Joly shaking his head,

"No, we don't have a good relationship with them" He said, "Call Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Eponine, though." Musichetta nodded, taking her phone, and making the calls. Bossuet stood over Montparnasse's limp body with a stick and the knife, prepared in case Montparnasse woke up. Joly was still curled around Enjolras.

Musichetta told everyone Joly had told her to call the details of what had happened, and the three promised to be over to the park right away. Thankfully, no one else had entered the park as of yet. Combeferre was (unsurprisingly) the first to come, and he scooped Enjolras into his arms, cradling him to his chest, looking absolutely terrified. Courfeyrac came in next, having a similar reaction to Combeferre, and Eponine stormed in last. She didn't look scared. Eponine didn't really do scared, anyway. She was furious. She marched over to Montparnasse, shaking him fiercely.

"Wake up, you loser!" She exclaimed, Montparnasse opening his eyes, and looking at his surroundings. Montparnasse's eyes widened,

"I can explain!" He insisted, Eponine scowling,

"For God's sake, grace me with it! Why were you here? What were you _doing_?!" She yelled. Montparnasse pressed his lips tightly together. Eponine sighed,

"We ought to turn you into the cops," She said, Montparnasse grinning.

" _Eponine,"_ He whispered, "If I go down… Then you go down with me. Bossuet had apparently had enough of this, and hit Montparnasse over the head, knocking him out again. Musichetta frowned at Eponine, who was staring at Montparnasse with wide eyes.

"I don't exactly have a clean record. You all know that… He says he'll expose it if I give him up to authorities," Eponine whispered. Combeferre nodded,

"Then we won't bring this to court, or jail," He decided.

"What do we do with him then?!" Courfeyrac asked, looking like he would very much like to beat up Montparnasse right then and there.

"I can lock him up in my house. Illegal, sure, but so's attacking a three-year-old child," She suggested. Everyone nodded at this.

"Alright," Eponine said, roughly pulling Montparnasse off the ground, and rushing away, still huffing and drowning in anger.

"What now?" Courfeyrac asked Combeferre, who smiled at Musichetta,

"Thank you so much, you three, for saving him. I don't know what I would do without him," Combeferre expressed. Musichetta nodded,

"Of course," She responded, giving Enjolras' curls one fond pat, before saying her goodbyes. Joly and Bossuet did the same. Courfeyrac hovered around Combeferre, as he carried the toddler out of sight. Joly turned to Musichetta.

"Home?" He enquired.

Musichetta nodded tiredly,

"Home," She repeated. Never before had the word sounded so appealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. Life's been quite hectic lately. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to write this, as I had my entire house to myself for once. My family decided to sleep out in the yard in a tent, for whatever reason. I declined the offer to join, because sleeping in the same tent as 5 other people didn't sound appealing to me.
> 
> My cat sat in my lap the entire time I was writing this, and thanks to him, my foot's now asleep


	10. In which Ferre and Courf fight, Enjolras is angry, and Lamarque learns of what happened

"Any texts from Eponine?" Courfeyrac asked Grantaire, who was sitting on the floor beside him, the two men leaning against the couch in the Triumvirate's living room. Enjolras was sitting on the couch behind them, pulling a comb through Courfeyrac's hair, and probably doing more harm then good. Courfeyrac let him do it anyway, mainly to keep Enjolras, who has been extremely angry since he woke up that morning, for whatever reason, happy.

"One," Grantaire said, Courfeyrac giving a hiss of pain as the comb went through a particularly tangled area in his hair, "She seems quite nervous about holding Montparnasse hostage at her house," Grantaire informed, taking the comb out of Enjolras hands, in an attempt to save Courfeyrac from anymore suffering, but giving it back when Enjolras became teary-eyed and started whining.

"I can only imagine," Courfeyrac murmured, "She probably doesn't want that monster anywhere near little Azelma and Gavroche," Grantaire nodded,

"Yes, she's concerned for their safety. And just the general weirdness of the situation," Grantaire explained, Courfeyrac bobbing his head,

"Ferre should be home soon, I've ought to thank you for coming over. And for everything. You've been a big help since the… Incident," Courfeyrac said. Grantaire smiled,

"Any time," He gave a mock tip of an imaginary hat, and Courfeyrac burst into laughter. One of the fun things about being around Courfeyrac was that he would laugh at even the dumbest things. His life was bright, full of life, and contagious. Courfeyrac was generally a happy person, though when under high stress, he became a little bit more withdrawn. Grantaire on the other hand, was the opposite of Courfeyrac, though he did have a pretty good sense of humor. He was more sarcastic, and had a less cheerful presence. Grantaire could be caring when he wanted to, though, and one of his best traits was his loyalty. He would do anything for his friends.

"So, how's everyone been doing since the Montparnasse incident?" Grantaire enquired, referencing the situation of three days ago, Courfeyrac shrugging,

"So-so, I don't think Enjolras actually remembers what happened, and I'm a bit shaken up, but also curious. I really hope the Investigation Team can get something out of interrogating Montparnasse. Combeferre was… Disturbed by the situation, to say the least, and is being quite overprotective." Courfeyrac grimaced, as the comb Enjolras was still handling snagged on one of his dark brown curls.

"How overprotective can you get with a three-year-old?" Grantaire asked, and there was a rattling at the door, Combeferre coming in a few seconds later. Courfeyrac gave Combeferre a small nod in greeting, and Grantaire just grinned. Combeferre gave them both a weary smile in response, Enjolras jumping down from the couch, and scurrying over to Combeferre, hugging his leg with a squeal. Combeferre beamed, picking Enjolras up, and looking at Courfeyrac,

"He was kept entirely safe?!" He demanded, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes,

"As safe as a kid can be kept," Courfeyrac replied, Combeferre placing Enjolras down on the couch. Enjolras jumped down from the couch, running wildly around the room, before leaving it entirely. Grantaire sighed, following him out to make sure he didn't hurt himself or anything else. Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre,

"Why don't you just let me take him to the stretch behind the apartment? He's been fidgety and frustrated all day, he needs to get out," Courfeyrac asked, Combeferre shaking his head,

"No, it's not safe," He said. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow,

"Not safe? Really? Nobody's going to know that we're behind the apartment!" He exclaimed. Combeferre crossed his arms,

"Montparnasse knew Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were at the park!" He argued. Courfeyrac huffed, and Grantaire walked back into the living room with Enjolras, pausing at the sight before him. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were facing each other off, Combeferre's arms still crossed, and Courfeyrac's fists clenched, as he leaned slightly forward. Grantaire gave a small hum of understanding, taking Enjolras' hand, and leading him out of the room.

"Come on, Julien, let's go find your blocks, _mommy_ and _daddy_ are… _bu_ _sy_ ," He said, smirking slightly. Courfeyrac didn't even chuckle at the joke, waiting until Grantaire left the room with Enjolras to continue his argument with Combeferre,

"How do you know what's best for him, hm? Why not take someone's else's opinion into consideration?! Would that be so hard?!" Courfeyrac yelled, Combeferre scoffing,

" _I_ know what's best for him more than anyone else here. _I_ was the one who would go over his homework with him when he was in elementary school. _I_ was the one who would clean his cuts after he got into a fight in middle school. _I_ was the one who would stay by his side the entire night during parties in high school, because he didn't want to be alone. _I_ was the one who went over his college choices with him, when the time came, and _I_ am the one who still forces him to eat and sleep. _I've_ always been the person he would go to when he was happy, or sad, or angry, or wasn't feeling well. It's always been _me!_ " Combeferre shouted, panting slightly. Courfeyrac racked his mind for a suitable response to that.

"You're being overprotective of him, _Alexandre_. You always have been, and you still are." Courfeyrac finally murmured, in what he hoped was a gentle voice. This only seemed to enrage Combeferre further, and he took a sudden step forward, Courfeyrac taking a shocked step back. Combeferre never stepped threateningly towards him. Combeferre never raised his voice at him. Courfeyrac was slightly scared. Combeferre's brown eyes met Courfeyrac's hazel, and Combeferre took a hurried step backward,

" _I'm sorry_ ," Combeferre whispered, sitting down on the sofa. "Just… Take Enjolras out of the house for a little bit, please," He murmured, Courfeyrac giving a small nod, and quickly scurrying off to find the toddler and Grantaire in Enjolras' room, Enjolras stacking blocks on the floor, and Grantaire crouched beside him. Grantaire gave Courfeyrac a questioning look, Courfeyrac giving him a slight smile in response.

"Uh, Combeferre asked me to take Enjolras out of the house. I think I'm gonna head down to Lamarque's… Try to explain the situation to him, I doubt Enjolras can miss anymore work," Courfeyrac explained. Grantaire nodded, Courfeyrac taking Enjolras' hand.

"What about Combeferre?" Grantaire asked. Courfeyrac frowned,

"What about him?"

"You want me to talk to him, y'know, about all of this?" Grantaire offered, Courfeyrac laughing.

"That's a nice joke," He said with a chuckle. Grantaire frowned,

"No, really," He replied. Courfeyrac gave him an incredulous look,

"You. Talk to someone about emotions. You." Courfeyrac said, Grantaire shrugging,

"When you've previously lived with Joly and Jehan, you pick some things up," He defended.

"Alright, take a shot," Courfeyrac permitted, walking Enjolras out of the room. Courfeyrac gave Combeferre a small nod as they passed him, watching Enjolras struggle with his shoes for three minutes, before finally intervening and putting them on himself. Courfeyrac, strangely enough, knew Larmarque's address. Enjolras and Lamarque had been quite close before Enjolras had started working under him, and any adult Enjolras had actually respected as a teenager had to be pretty awesome, so Courfeyrac had always thought highly of Lamarque. Lamarque was also an outspoken supporter of the Les Amis, and had helped them out of a few tricky legal situations. He, as it turned out, lived in a large red brick house, about 15 minutes away from the Triumvirate by car. Courfeyrac rang the doorbell, Enjolras balanced on his hip. The door was answered by Professor Lamarque, who Courfeyrac also personally knew, from a few occasions.

"Oh, hello, Courfeyrac, is it?" Lamarque asked in a good-natured tone, Courfeyrac nodding. Lamarque glanced at Enjolras,

"And who's your little friend here?" He enquired. Courfeyrac gulped.

"Uh… Julien?" He answered. Lamarque nodded, thinking for a second,

"Hm, he shares the same name as Julien _Enjolras_. Looks quite like him too. Speaking of the other Julien, how is he? Considering he's been out sick for at least a week, I'm going to assume that the lad's caught something nasty again," He said. Courfeyrac sighed. Yay. _This_ part.

"Uh…" Courfeyrac murmured, Lamarque stepping aside,

"Do come in," He invited, Courfeyrac stepping into the house. Courfeyrac set Enjolras down on the ground, keeping a firm hold on his red hoodie, though, to make sure the child didn't run off.

"Uhm… The kid I've got with me… His full name's Julien… Enjolras. Well, actually it's technically Julien Charles Phillipe Enjolras, but-" Lamarque cut him off,

"I'm sorry, _what_!?" He exclaimed. Courfeyrac pointed at Enjolras,

"That's the Enjolras you work with on a daily basis," He said. Lamarque blinked,

" _Impossible_ ," He whispered, though he didn't sound quite convinced himself, leaning down, and tracing his hand across Enjolras' cheek. Courfeyrac nodded,

"That's what we all thought at first, but it's true, here, look," He took out his phone, scrolling through his photos, till he found a photo he had taken _of_ a photo of Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre together as kids. Combeferre was around 8, and was holding a 3-year-old Enjolras, while an also 3-year-old Courfeyrac sat beside them, grinning at the camera. They were in a field, in the picture, and Courfeyrac couldn't remember the specific moment it had been taken, but Combeferre could always recall it. Lamarque glanced at the picture, then back to Enjolras, then back to the picture again, before finally looking at Courfeyrac.

"I… Don't know what to say," He murmured, Enjolras lunging forward suddenly, trying to loosen Courfeyrac's grip on his jacket. Courfeyrac picked him up, and Enjolras squirmed in his arms, whining.

"Well…" Lamarque apparently thought something up, "How did it happen?" Courfeyrac shrugged,

"We're not-" He paused, shifting his hold on Enjolras, as the kid was more determined than ever to get down, "- Entirely sure," He continued, tapping Enjolras' forehead lightly, trying to calm him, "We have a…" Oh, how was he supposed to put it? "... Highly trained team of individuals on the case…" There. Not _that_ far from the truth… Lamarque was silent, for a minute, before he nodded,

"Alright… I'll do what I can, job-wise," Lamarque promised. Courfeyrac let out a sigh of relief,

"Oh, thank you sir," He murmured, Lamarque smiling.

"Feel free to bring him around when you need to… It's been quite quiet around here lately. Besides, knowing Enjolras, as I do, I can imagine he'd be quite the difficult toddler," Lamarque said. Courfeyrac shrugged, but smiled. Enjolras was actually a pretty good kid, come to think of it. He didn't usually cry, or throw tantrums, and was pretty good at entertaining himself.

"No, no, no, _NO_!" Enjolras suddenly shrieked, "Put me _down_!" He demanded, struggling in Courfeyrac's arms. Any preconceived conceptions Courfeyrac had about Enjolras being well behaved flew out the window at about that time.

"Alright, I oughta go, he's… Being him, and Combeferre's probably worried out of his mind, Enj and I having been gone an _entire_ thirty minutes," Courfeyrac said the last part slightly sarcastically, Lamarque frowning,

"Okay, then. If you need anything at all, feel free to call me. And tell Combeferre I give my greetings," He instructed. Courfeyrac gave him a long-suffering smile,

"I will, thank you," He said, walking out of Lamarque's house, and heading towards his car. He drove back to the apartment, entering it, and instantly letting Enjolras, who had grown extremely unhappy with being held by anything, whether it be a carseat or Courfeyrac, down to the ground. Enjolras glared at him, before walking away. Courfeyrac sighed, knowing he had to keep an eye on where the kid was. He looked over at the couch, seeing Grantaire just sitting there, Combeferre asleep on it.

"Any progress with him?" Courfeyrac asked Grantaire, Grantaire shrugging in response,

"Nah, he fell asleep only about a minute after you two left. I think he's just really tired, and that's why he blew up at you," Grantaire shared, Courfeyrac grinning,

"Since when were you a therapist?" He asked, Grantaire playing along,

"I have many talents," He said with a chuckle, "How'd the meeting with Lamarque go?" He enquired.

"Pretty good, actually," Courfeyrac reported, "Lamarque took it quite well, and he said he'd do what he could." Grantaire looked around the room,

"Where's Enj?" He questioned.

"Went off down the hallway, I'll go after him in a minute. He hasn't been particularly happy today," Courfeyrac told Grantaire. Grantaire nodded,

"Yeah. Remember earlier, when he started screaming for literally no reason?" Grantaire recalled. Courfeyrac chuckled,

"Sounds like both him and Combeferre both could really do with some extra sleep," He said. Grantaire stood up,

"You want me to try to put Enjolras down for a nap, then?" He queried. Courfeyrac shook his head,

"Naps don't work with him. Then he's up the whole night," He informed, Grantaire nodding, and walking down the hallway, dragging Enjolras back into the living room, where they could keep an eye on him. Enjolras, of course, immediately began screaming, jolting Combeferre awake. Combeferre was usually a deep sleeper, but when it came to shrieks, he was up in a heartbeat.

"Just the kid being difficult," Grantaire supplied, Combeferre sighing, and walking over, lifting the, still crying, Enjolras into his arms, and going back over to his former position on the couch, holding him to his chest for about a minute, calming Enjolras down. Grantaire and Courfeyrac wandered into Courfeyrac's room, now that Combeferre both had Enjolras handled, and had gotten him to shut up, Courfeyrac sitting on his bed, and Grantaire sitting on the floor.

The first impression you would most likely get from walking into Courfeyrac's room, was that a rainbow had exploded. Indeed, everything in Courfeyrac's room was quite… Vividly colored, to say the least. The curtains to his window were a bright yellow, the wall space surrounding it multicolored. His bed was the only thing in the room that was solidly colored, other than the curtains, and that solid color was blue, in the beds case. There were pictures of all of the Les Amis hanging up in random places in the room. In short, entering Courfeyrac's room much like entering his mind. Colorful, busy, and loving.

"So, how've you been doing," Grantaire randomly asked, Courfeyrac frowning,

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking over at his ferret, Rebel's cage. Rebel of whom, was glancing curiously at him from the hammock, looking slightly hurt. She hadn't been happy the past two weeks, as Courfeyrac didn't have much time to pay attention to her, since he was usually trying to keep a certain blonde child from injuring himself.

"How've you been doing, regarding everything? I can only imagine how stressful it is, dealing with our current situation," Grantaire said, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes,

"I know I joked about you being a therapist, Grantaire, but I didn't mean that you were literally one," He cracked, Grantaire giving him a slight smile, waiting for Courfeyrac to answer his question. "I dunno," Courfeyrac finally admitted, "I mean, it's weird and all. My best friend being so… Small. I really just want the old Enjolras back, sometimes. Sure, the old Enj would still definitely scream at me, but not that loud." Grantaire laughed,

"Yeah, I kind of miss arguing with Apollo, surprisingly. Arguing with a three-year-old on whether a shirt is an important article of clothing or not isn't exactly the same thing," He murmured. Courfeyrac climbed down off of his bed, patting Grantaire's back,

"I feel you there," He muttered, Grantaire laughing. There was a sudden scream from the living room, obviously from Enjolras, and Courfeyrac sighed, forcing himself to his feet.

"So…" He said to Grantaire, "Back to life?" Grantaire stood up as well.

"Back to life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been out a few days ago, but some of the ends of the chapter needed a little bit of patching up. 
> 
> Courfeyrac definitely has a ferret, fight me.


	11. In which Enjolras has a cold, and the Investigation Team interrogates Montparnasse

"How do you even interrogate someone?" Jehan asked nervously, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer or not. Azelma, who was walking beside him, grinned,

"Preferably with a knife," She replied in a casual tone, "Though if you can't find one, any other sharp object will do!" She added. Jehan blinked,

"Should I be concerned… Or?" He murmured, as they walked up the stairs of Eponine, Azelma, and Gavroche's apartment. They made their way to Eponine's door, and Azelma unlocked it, Jehan walking in. The sight that awaited him in the tiny, cramped, living room was slightly disturbing, to him, at least. Gavroche was laying on the dirty-carpeted floor on his stomach, playing with what looked to be a dagger of some sort. Eponine was sitting on the couch, her arms crossed, and her foot moving anxiously up and down. Montparnasse was thoroughly tied up in the corner. Jehan could guess that Montparnasse was rather furious, but couldn't tell for sure, as Montparnasse was blindfolded. Eponine turned her head in Jehan and Azelma's direction when she heard the door, and smiled, standing up,

"Alright, time to begin! Gav, give the knife to me, you can play with it later," Eponine instructed, Jehan swallowing, and Gavroche handing the knife over to his sister with a shrug. Eponine examined the knife for a second, before turning to Azelma,

"Azelma, you can take off the blindfold, and un-gag him. Keep everything else intact though," Eponine ordered, Azelma giving a mock-salute, and did as Eponine said. Montparnasse let out a spew of words Jehan would not repeat, as soon as the gag was off of him, and Jehan covered Gavroche's ears, though, he was pretty sure Gavroche already knew every word that was being said, considering the rest of his upbringing. Eponine picked up a tray of crackers, and set it down on the coffee table. She turned to Jehan,

"He hasn't eaten since the incident, I've made sure," Eponine explained, Jehan frowning. He was beginning to get the impression that the trio of siblings had done something like this, or rather similar to it, before. It wouldn't surprise him. Eponine motioned toward Gavroche, and he grabbed the knife, pointing it at Montparnasse's throat.

" _Talk_!" Gavroche demanded, in the most intimidating voice he could muster at the age of ten. Montparnasse sneered,

"Or what?" He asked in his annoying, raspy voice. Gavroche smiled, moving the knife closer to Montparnasse. Montparnasse laughed,

"You'll just kill me?! Go ahead and try, boy, I know you haven't got the guts!" He exclaimed. Gavroche frowned,

"I wouldn't kill you, idiot, we need info from you! But I _can_ make it hurt!" Gavroche threatened, Jehan sinking back. He didn't really want to watch this. Eponine, meanwhile, was beaming proudly at her younger brother's… "skills," if one would like to call them that.

"Now," Azelma came in, "Why did you attack Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Enjolras?" She asked. Montparnasse just smirked, shaking his head, and pressing his lips tightly together.

" _Why_?!" Gavroche shouted, and Jehan turned his head, hearing Gavroche slice the knife somewhere across Montparnasse's body twice. There was a small cry of pain from Montparnasse, but that was it. No more words.

"God dammit, _speak!_ " Eponine yelled. Montparnasse just sneered at her, infuriating Eponine. Azelma gestured towards the crackers, which Montparnasse was staring longingly at,

"If you want the crackers, you need to talk," She insisted, Montparnasse shaking his head.

"So… What now, as he's not cooperating?" Jehan hesitantly asked, wondering, not for the first time, why he was even on the Investigation Team.

"Now… We just repeat this process over and over until he caves… Or dies!" Azelma cheerfully provided. Jehan groaned.

….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….

There was tension between Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and there had been ever since the argument they'd had a day ago. Combeferre didn't particularly like it. Courfeyrac and him barely ever argued. Yes, Combeferre would get frustrated at Courfeyrac for neglecting to clean up every now and then, and, yes, Courfeyrac would get frustrated at both Combeferre and Enjolras for forgetting to fetch groceries nearly every week, always forcing him to do it, but still, they almost never raised their voices at one another, even in passionate debate. So the argument with Courfeyrac had been… Strange, to say the least. Combeferre knew it was mainly stress, and lack of sleep that had caused him to lose his cool. Enjolras did not sleep through the night whatsoever, and for whatever reason, it was always Combeferre's bed that Enjolras ended up climbing into, or Combeferre who Enjolras would randomly shake at 2:00 am, to declare that he was " _thirsty."_ And Combeferre was already getting home from work quite late as it was, most of the time. Related things, and housework, would keep Combeferre up late when he was out of work early.

Combeferre awoke that morning feeling particularly sullen. He knew why. He missed Enjolras. Sure, he had the mini version of Enjolras still with him, but he missed the old Enjolras. He forced himself out of bed, reminding himself too late that he actually had work off that day. Combeferre was one of those people who couldn't go back to sleep once he had left the bed. He picked up his glasses from the nightstand, as the world was just one big blur without them. Once he had his glasses on, his gaze flickered toward his alarm clock. _6:01 am_. He could have probably stayed in bed another 30 minutes before Enjolras decided to randomly wake him up, or Courfeyrac awoke him for help. With a sigh, Combeferre began to get ready for the day, deciding that if he was going to be awake at 6:01, and not have to be rushed to get to work and/or drive Enjolras to a friends, then he may as well be productive anyhow. Combeferre walked out of his room, once he had gotten dressed, and into the kitchen, yawning. He gave an amused smile, when he saw Enjolras curled up on the living room floor. He picked Enjolras up gently, hoping not to wake him. Of course, Enjolras immediately woke up, blinking his bleary blue eyes.

"Hey, monsieur, why were you on the floor?" Combeferre enquired, Enjolras scowling,

"Because I wanted to be," He replied defensively. Combeferre rolled his eyes, rubbing Enjolras' back with his left hand, while continuing to hold him with his right arm. Combeferre was aware that they should probably be trying to convince Enjolras to walk around on his own more, instead of being carried, to improve his walking skills, but Enjolras walked just fine on his own. Enjolras was also a very quick runner, which was proving to be a very annoying trait. Combeferre carried Enjolras frequently simply because it was convenient. Combeferre didn't like dragging Enjolras places by the hand, as Enjolras didn't usually cooperate with that anyways, and he was quite small for his age, so he was rather easy to hold. Combeferre also likes the feeling of Enjolras' body pressing into his. The feeling of Enjolras tiny chest rising and falling against Combeferre's own.

Combeferre stood in the living room of the apartment, holding Enjolras close to his chest, and enjoying the beautiful sight of the pink, orange, and red sky through the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. Combeferre would not let Enjolras onto the balcony, in fear of him somehow falling, even though Courfeyrac had tried to reassure him, by insisting that the gate around the balcony were too thick for Enjolras to slip through, or climb. Combeferre still wasn't taking any precautions. Great God, he sounded like Joly. Enjolras let out a few tiny coughs suddenly, and Combeferre set him down on the ground, ruffling his hair,

"Remember to cover your mouth," He chided gently, Enjolras holding his arms out to Combeferre, in hopes of being picked up again.

"No, Julien, I have to make breakfast," Combeferre said, Enjolras letting out a small noise, that was a mix of sad and angry sounding. Combeferre frowned,

"No, Julien," He repeated, walking over to the kitchen area, where he could still see Enjolras in the living room. Enjolras, for whatever reason, decided to follow him about three seconds later. He walked over to Combeferre, clinging onto his leg. Combeferre sighed, but continued doing what he was doing. With Enjolras on his leg. If you've never tried to make breakfast for three, with a _three-year-old_ clutching onto your leg, you can't judge. Combeferre finally finished up, and attempted to remove Enjolras from his leg to enter Courfeyrac's room, and wake him up, but Enjolras' started crying whenever he actually succeeded in pulling him away and putting him on the ground, so, Combeferre, despite knowing that you shouldn't bend to a three-year-olds wishes, lifted Enjolras into his arms, walking into Courfeyrac room, and gently setting Enjolras on a sleeping Courfeyrac's back.

" _Mmph,"_ Courfeyrac murmured, opening one eye. He blinked at Combeferre and Enjolras, before giving Enjolras a smile.

"Hey, buddy," He greeted, Enjolras grinning.

"Hi, Courf," He said, Combeferre turning to walk out of the room, in the hope that now he had Courfeyrac, Enjolras would be willing to let him go.

"No! _Ferre_ ," Enjolras whimpered, Combeferre turning back to Enjolras and Courfeyrac's direction, lifting the child off of Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac frowned, sitting up in bed, and pulling the covers from his legs.

"What's up with him?" Courfeyrac asked, Combeferre shrugging. Enjolras then let out a few more raspy sounding coughs, burying his head into Combeferre's chest with a whine. Combeferre raised an eyebrow, sitting the tiny boy down on Courfeyrac's bed, and examining him, Courfeyrac pulling up beside him to do the same.

"He's got a runny nose," Courfeyrac said, and he was correct. Enjolras nose had started to slightly run, and there was a small rasp in his breathing. Combeferre sighed,

"How did he manage to pick something up already?" He muttered, "Courfeyrac, get the ear thermometer from the bathroom," He said, Courfeyrac nodded, and walked off. Combeferre sat down on the bed, letting Enjolras climb into his lap.

" _I want maman,_ " Enjolras whispered. Combeferre gave him a sad smile,

"You'll… Be able to see her soon," He reassured. That was a lie though. Even once they figured out how to turn Enjolras back, Enjolras wouldn't be able to see his mother. His mother was dead. She had fallen down the stairs a few years ago, and had died almost immediately. Grown Enjolras, however, had his own… Theories, about what had happened to his mother. They usually had something to do with his father.

" _That BASTARD killed her Combeferre, I'm sure of it!"_

Nevertheless, all Combeferre could think of doing at the moment to calm the sniffling three-year-old down, was lying. Courfeyrac walked back into the room, handing Combeferre the thermometer.

"I already replaced the cover," Courfeyrac assured him, and Combeferre gave him a thankful nod, feeling quite thankful for Courfeyrac right then and there. Courfeyrac could be very competent when he wanted to. Combeferre slipped the contraption into Enjolras' ear, Enjolras whining,

" _No_ , stop it!" He thankfully didn't pull away, though, and Combeferre took it out, squinting at it, before sticking it into Enjolras' other ear. Combeferre took it out after a few seconds, and gave a tired sigh,

" _100.7_ , he's sick," He told Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac's eyes widened,

"Is he going to be alright?" He asked, Combeferre nodding,

"Just a run-of-the-mill low-grade fever, I'm sure," Combeferre reassured him. Courfeyrac blinked,

"You want me to stay home, and help you with him?" He asked, Combeferre shaking his head,

"No, I've got it," He said. Courfeyrac awkwardly stared at Combeferre and Enjolras a second more, before finally speaking,

"Uh, I've ought to get dressed," Courfeyrac murmured, Combeferre nodding, and picking Enjolras up, quickly leaving the room. When Courfeyrac was younger, Combeferre hadn't had a problem with watching him undress. It hadn't fazed him at all, since they were just kids. As they had grown older, though, it had become increasingly awkward for Combeferre to see his brunette friend in any state of undress, for whatever reason. That hadn't happened with Enjolras at all, so this confused Combeferre. He had brought it up to Enjolras once, in college, when they were eating takeout together in the living room, Courfeyrac out doing whatever. Enjolras' response to that had been to spit out his water and begin hysterically laughing. Combeferre had never been sure of why he did that, come to think of it.

He set Enjolras down on the couch once he had left Courfeyrac's room, heading to the kitchen. Enjolras had immediately let out a shriek a hyena would be proud of, and followed after him.

"Up, please?" Enjolras asked, clinging onto Combeferre's pant leg. Combeferre was about to reject him, when Enjolras let out a few pitiful coughs, that made Combeferre's heart melt. He finally lifted him up, balancing Enjolras on his hip, while using one hand to set each plate on the table. Courfeyrac came into the room right after Combeferre set Enjolras down in a chair. Courfeyrac sat down, practically brimming with excitement.

"Darest I ask what's going on today?" Combeferre asked Courfeyrac, frowning as Enjolras left his chair, opting to sit in Combeferre's lap instead.

"Ah, today, my friend, is the day I have the students act out the scenes from history-" Combeferre listened to Courfeyrac jabber on, pulling Enjolras plate up next to his own, trying to coax Enjolras to eat a piece of toast. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, and Enjolras only ate a spoonful of applesauce, before cuddling into Combeferre, refusing to eat another bite, and loudly sniffling every few seconds. Courfeyrac stood up, placing his plate in the sink, before leaving the room, to get ready for work. Combeferre gently removed Enjolras from his lap, doing the dishes in the kitchen, Enjolras walking over, and grasping onto his pants the entire time, as he had been doing before. Courfeyrac entered the kitchen after a few minutes, giving Combeferre a hesitant smile,

"Well, I'm off," Courfeyrac said, kissing Combeferre's cheek. Combeferre smiled back at him,

"Don't get another speeding ticket," He warned, Courfeyrac grinning,

"No promises!" He exclaimed, kneeling down, and kissing Enjolras' forehead,

"Bye, Sniffles," He said, Enjolras frowning,

"I am-" He started, Courfeyrac laughing, and cutting him off,

"Julien, I know, buddy. Feel better soon!" He then left the house entirely, Combeferre lifting Enjolras into his arms, Enjolras letting out a sneeze.

"Your immune system really does hate you, doesn't it?" Combeferre murmured, Enjolras giving him a confused look.

"Anyway, are you tired? Do you want to go back to sleep?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras yawning, but shaking his head,

"No," He stubbornly declared. Combeferre placed him down on the living room floor, sitting on the floor himself, leaning against the couch, while scrolling through his phone. Enjolras began playing with his blocks, while keeping one hand on Combeferre's leg. Combeferre eventually began reading an E-Book he had been intending to read for a while, but had never gotten the chance to, finding it hard to concentrate on, due to Enjolras sniffling and coughing, but he persevered, nonetheless. He stopped after reading the fifth chapter.

"Julien, you need to get on new clothes," He informed Enjolras. Enjolras shook his head,

"Don't wanna," He said, Combeferre walking into Enjolras' room, Enjolras of course following him in. Combeferre opened the closet, looking at Enjolras' regular assortment of clothes with a small pang of sadness, before taking a look at the clothes that currently fit Enjolras, taking a tiny red T-Shirt. He held it up to Enjolras, who was now sitting on the floor, one hand rested on Combeferre's foot. Enjolras gave it a defiant look, and turned away. Combeferre sighed, forcefully taking off Enjolras pajama top that he was currently in, and replacing it with the T-Shirt, Enjolras fighting valiantly and screaming the entire process, making things a hundred times more difficult. They repeated this process with pants and socks, before Enjolras was finally fully dressed.

"I feel yucky, Ferre," Enjolras whimpered, sneezing twice, as Combeferre went back into the living room, and sat down on the couch, Enjolras in his lap. Combeferre stroked his hand through Enjolras' golden curls,

"I know, Julien," Combeferre said, letting Enjolras snuggle into his chest.

" _I want maman, please Ferre_ ," Enjolras murmured, a few tears running down his face, as he coughed hoarsely. Combeferre dried the tears with a tissue, wiping at the snot on Enjolras' face as well. Enjolras clutched onto Combeferre's shirt, as if he were afraid that Combeferre would move. This was nothing new to Combeferre, as Enjolras always acted clingy when he was ill, no matter what age he was. Combeferre actually used it as a warning sign. When Enjolras started following him around the house, it meant an illness was either soon to come, or had already arrived. Courfeyrac had taken to calling Enjolras "koala" when he was sick, because of how he clung to Combeferre, even as an adult. Oh, what Grantaire would do with this information...

Combeferre took one of his old childhood books, which was laying on the coffee table with a few others, into his hands. He had taken them out of his closet in hopes of entertaining Enjolras with them. Enjolras seemed to find them very intriguing, thus far.

"Enjolras, do you want me to read to you?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras' teary eyes meeting his.

"Yeah," Enjolras said, Combeferre beginning to read out-loud from the children's book. Enjolras was captivated by the colorful pictures, but began to zone out after a few minutes, until he went limp against Combeferre. Combeferre smiled. Enjolras had fallen asleep. Combeferre closed the book, leaning over slightly, securing Enjolras to him with his free hand, and placing the book back on the counter, before leaning back again. Enjolras gave a few congested coughs, frowning in his sleep, and cuddling as close to Combeferre as he could. Combeferre rubbed Enjolras' back, closing his eyes himself. Perhaps he could catch on on the missed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My little sister is like Enjolras here. I am not sure why, but whenever I walked out of my bedroom today, she ran over, and pretty much attached herself to my leg, only stopping when I picked her up. The thing is, though, Combeferre is a large man, with a small toddler clinging on to him. I am a small thirteen-year-old, with a large six-year-old clinging into me. Slightly different things, but same idea overall, I suppose.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be out soon!


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